Filed under: Attitude & Aptitude, Context, Dad, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, Otis, Relationships, Resonance, Tattoo
So I’m back again.
Kinda.
I say that as by the time you read this, I’ll be off again.
On a plane, to a different country. But don’t get too excited because unlike the other recent trips, it’s only a few days so this blog – if anyone reads it – will be back on Thursday.
You’d think with all the time I’ve been away, I’d of had a chance to think up some new topics to write about. But quite frankly, the biggest news is the realization we’re now entering the last month of blogging for 2025.
How the hell did we get to this point of the year so quickly?
The thought that in just over a couple of months we enter the 19th year of this rubbish is mindblowing … though maybe I should say mind numbing, hahaha.
Anyway, this post is about tattoos.
Hang in there, it’s quite a personal post.
I got my first tat when I was about 41 years old.
I’d always thought about them but either was worried about the pain or not sure what I would want on me.
Things changed when I found myself in a tattoo shop in LA while on holiday with Jill, Paul and Shelly … and suddenly the opportunity to ‘go for it’ was just a head-nod away.
So, I did and almost immediately it made more sense to me than I ever imagined.
You see, for a sentimental fool like me, tattoos are a way to commemorate and celebrate all that is – or has been – important to me.
More than a reminder, but a way to keep these things alive in my consciousness.
Maybe that’s why I find having them peaceful.
Proper peace.
To the point I sleep through them rather than wince because of them.
So, while some can have any old shit inked onto their body, for me each is deeply personal and that’s why my arms are covered in a hotchpotch of weird personal references and deeply emotional significance … from toast with the Superman logo burnt into it to a mooncake, an owl, an octopus, a black heart with flowers and Ms Piggy right through to things like my old Nottingham post code and phone number, Rosie’s face, paw and nose and Otis birth date to name but a few.
But recently I had 2 more added that had a bigger impact on me than I imagined.
While going through some old photos, I found my parents passports.
As I looked through the pages, I saw their signatures and it really got to me.
Part of it was I’d not seen them for a long time.
Part of it is knowing they won’t ever write them again.
Part of it is because they’d written them with their own hand, so I felt close to them again.
It was an emotional moment and decided there and then I wanted them tattooed on me.
Now I have tattoos for Mum and Dad already [the Owl and Ms Piggy] but this was different and so when I talked to an artist near our house about it, she readily agreed and created scans she could use as a template to ink.
And this is the result.
They’re perfect.
Both in terms of how they look and where they are.
But more than that, they’re perfect in what they mean and represent.
I was gobsmacked when I first saw them because it felt so surreal to see their signatures written new again.
Yes, I know I’d asked for them, but these were ‘fresh and new’ and given Dad has been gone 25 years – and Mum 9 – it felt like they were part of my present, not simply my past.
Being able to look at my wrist and not just see their names, but their actual signatures is very special to me as it means they are now living in my world … but more than that, I’m taking them with me. Showing and sharing with them how I live and what I do. Having them on the journey with me rather than just in my memory.
I appreciate not everyone will get this and some may think I have finally – or officially – cracked, but I hope some people get it, because the point of a tattoo, at least for me, isn’t about branding, but living.
Ensuring things of significance in life are not consigned to ‘memory status’, but liberated to be oxygen for where you go. Not because you can’t let go or are frightened to … but because the energy of what they are helps take you further. In the now. In the present. In the forever.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Apathy, Attitude & Aptitude, Complicity, Content, Context, Creativity, Culture, Curiosity, Effectiveness, Egovertising, Emotion, Empathy, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, Parents, Perspective, Point Of View, Positioning, Provocative, Purpose
In many ways, this post is a continuation of yesterdays … except this was written 3 weeks ago and yesterdays – in an alarming moment of relevance for this blog – was written yesterday.
So let’s get on with it shall we?
Oh the 80’s.
The decade of excess.
Excess living.
Excess spending.
Excess movie stars.
Excess fashion styles.
Excess exuberance. Excess. Excess. Excess.
But as is always the case, too much of one thing causes a correction and different nations and generations have been dealing with the byproduct of that for the last 40 odd years.
However, over the past few years, there has been a narrative coming from the industry that suggests all this economic instability has changed attitudes and behaviour.
More frugalness.
Less materialism.
Higher levels of thrifting
Greater emphasis on life more than work.
Increased importance on values and purpose.
And while this is absolutely true for millions, to suggest everyone on the planet thinks and acts this way, highlights how the marketing and advertising industry loves to jump on bandwagons and then conveniently ignore – or fight againt – any voice that challenges their view.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’d be less annoyed if people acknowledged there were multiple segments but they were deliberately choosing to focus on one for reasons that suit their values/product/ego … but I am amazed how many orgs and experts talk in absolutes and not even acknowledge there are other groups/ways/approaches.
Nothing highlighted that more to me than this …
Yes, it’s a company that will take your everyday credit/debit card and make it look like an AMEX Centurion – also known as the AMEX ‘black’ card.
For those who don’t know what the Centurion is, it’s a credit/charge card for AMEX’s most wealthy customers.
And while it comes with a host of ‘perks’, you only get to apply for it if your annual spend/payment on another AMEX is US$500,000 per year … and even then, you have to pay thousands of dollars per year as an annual fee.
Except this isn’t an AMEX Centurion is it. It’smore likely a Natwest Debit card with an overdraft facility of £500 … so you may well be asking why would anyone do it, especially because when you use it, I imagine it tells the retailer it’s absolutely not an AMEX card whatsoever. Add to that, more and more people are using their phone to pay for goods, which means no one even see’s what card you’re using and you have to wonder what’s the point. Except it doesn’t take much looking around to see there’s millions of people who see the fake [reframe: replica] and/or toxic [reframe: alt/anti-woke] materialism lifestyle symbols, an investment.
An investment in their ego.
An investment in their belonging.
An investment in their status.
An investment in their ‘in-the-know’.
An investment in their delusion.
An investment in their taste.
An investment in their ambitions.
An investment in their quest for equality.
An investment in their need to not feel being left behind.
An investment in their connections.
An investment in their truth.
An investment in who they are or want to become.
And while we may not understand all of them … agree with all of them … even like all of them, it doesn’t mean they don’t exist or that their views and opinions don’t have any validity [even if it’s just to them], so dismissing them, ignoring them, judging them or being deliberately ignorant to the reality of them doesn’t help anyone, including yourself.
Because nothing sets you up for failure than only choosing to see, relate or value the people who are the same as you, which is why I find it so funny that for all the research companies invest in, so many of them only focus on what lets them them feel better about themselves rather than what reveals the truths and reasons they need to know.
Or at least acknowledge.
And that’s why the older I get, the more grateful I am to my Mum for instilling in me the importance of “being interested in what others are interested in”.
Not because you’ll always agree with them … or even end up liking them … but because when you make the effort to understand how – and why – they see the World, you better understand how you see it too.
We could all do with more of that … because being blinkered often stops you seeing who you can be, not just who others are.
Don’t get me wrong, taking a position is very important … but it only has value if the journey towards that point of view has come from understanding, rather than arrogance and ego.
Talking of 2024 being like the excess of the 1980’s …
There will be no posts next week as I’m off on a ridiculous trip.
Los Angeles.
Sydney.
Melbourne.
And errrrm, Hobart in Tasmania.
I know … I know …
But as I pointed out at the beginning of this post, for every action there’s a reaction … which in this case means you’re free from a week of my blogging rubbish, so if anything should highlight the benefits of acknowledging the different sides of situations, it’s this.
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.
Filed under: Corona Virus, Dad, England, Family, Italy, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, New Zealand, Otis
So on Sunday, it would be Mum’s 92nd birthday.
Now of course, she has been gone 9 years … however despite that, I still feel deeply connected to her birthday so for me, that number still feels very real to me.
I often wonder what life would be like if she was still here.
I say that, because had she still been alive, I don’t think we would be in NZ.
When COVID happened, we would have brought her to us in London … so she would be kept safe, cared for and loved.
I would imagine it would have been quite the challenge to get her to agree because she was always fiercely independent … but apart from the fact Otis would have been the major draw card, the fact is that towards the end of her life, she had accepted she needed some help. Not much, but a little. Even if that was just so she had someone to talk to every now and then, despite loving her own company.
And if that was the case there is no way we would have left the UK.
If anything, we would have been more likely to move to Italy … so she could be back in her homeland, near her sister and nieces.
Not that she would have expected us to do that – oh no, she was adamant I had to live my life, not look after hers – but that was a [gentle] tension we endured throughout our time together.
Her wanting to look after me by never demanding anything of me.
Me wanting to look after her by being protective and supportive.
Fortunately, towards the end we had found a calmness in how we dealt with it.
She’d accept what I sent her, and I’d accept she’d do nothing with any of it. Hahaha.
I know that might sound like some weird kind of ‘truce’, but it worked for us and I presume many other families work in a similar way. Acceptance, compromise and convenience … not because it ‘keeps the peace’, but because ultimately, you know the other person is doing it with love, even if it’s not exactly as you wish/hoped they’d act.
My Mum was the master of seeing the love.
Or dealing with challenges with love.
I can’t help but feel we’d all be better off if we followed her way of living rather than the self-serving, myopic, populist, egotism that the world is riddled with these days.
While I’m glad Mum didn’t have to endure the challenges of COVID, I’d have been so happy if it had meant she would be with us. I’ve written before how one of the worst of times was – thanks to my huge privilege – very special for me. By that, I mean in terms of COVID allowing me to be with my family 24/7.
They may have been sick of it, but I utterly loved it. Treasured it even.
But the reality is Mum had died years before, which meant NZ became a real option for us. And what a move it has turned out to be for the family. And while we won’t be here forever, we have valued and enjoyed every minute … which is why on top of thanking Colenso and the country for making it what it is [which is Otis’ FAVE EVER country, hence I’m going to ruin his life again one day in the not too distant, but not close, future] I also need to thank my Mum for kinda making this happen.
Or said another way … thank her for looking after my best interests even when I don’t fully realise that until later.
What a human. What a Mum.
Happy Birthday Mum, I love you.
Big hugs to you and give Dad a big kiss from me.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Agency Culture, Apathy, Attitude & Aptitude, Craft, Creativity, Culture, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, Nottingham
As I am away till next Wednesday on a work trip and I wrote about Dad yesterday to celebrate what would be his 86th birthday … I thought I’d leave you with a post about Mum, to even it all up, haha.
So Mum loved the arts.
Actually, it was more than just love, but curiosity.
Not in a suspicious or judgmental way … but from the perspective of wanting to understand more of it.
Not academically, but more about how the artist approached the work and why.
And it is because of this attitude, Mum was as keen to explore the stuff she didn’t know as much as the stuff she did.
One day she saw an ad for an orchestra coming to Nottingham.
Their name was intriguing – suggesting a new approach or experience of music – so she, along with her neighbours, bought tickets to go and see them at the Royal Concert Hall.
So a few months later, three 80 year olds caught the bus into the city and walked into the venue, only to be a little surprised at what they saw.
Because rather than a stage full of orchestral instruments, they were met with huge amplifiers and a massive lighting rig.
It didn’t take them long to discover why …
Because the orchestra they were seeing was the Electric Light Orchestra.
Also known as ELO, the rock band.
And they loved every single second of it,.
The music, the volume, the musicianship, the drama, the lighting, the whole extravaganza.
I still remember the excitement – and laughter – in Mum’s voice as she told me all about it. But there was one thing above all that stood out – and that was her happiness at discovering, experiencing and exploring a new artistic expression.
Because while she liked – and knew – some of the songs, her biggest joy was the surprise of the unexpected.
Where many would be disappointed to not have what they thought they were getting, Mum was elated.
She understood it was a gift.
A way to see more, feel more, experience more and know more than she did before.
Leaving with more than she went in with … musically, creatively and how people interpret and interact with the World.
But that was her …
A human who not loved to learn for the sheer joy of learning, but had a deep interest in what others are interested in. Even if she didn’t particularly like it, understand it or connect to it.
Because to her, knowledge wasn’t power, appreciation was.
Appreciation earned through listening, learning, experiencing and engaging.
An openness to expression and experience …
It’s why that even in her 80’s she was curious to the new.
Not so she could pretend she was young, but to protect her from becoming old.
By that, I mean in terms of her attitude to life rather than reversing her age.
And as I get older, I realise what an amazing role model she was to me.
To be comfortable with the uncomfortable and curious to the new.
Because while Mum was a person of high standards, morals and values … she never let these become barriers to exploring or welcoming the people and subjects that lived outside of them. Not so she could judge, but so she could grow.
We could do with more people like my Mum these days.
Across all areas of life. From politics to advertising.
Because we see so many people aggressively trying to live in the bubble of their making.
Actively standing in the way of new ideas and ideals … fighting hard to defend what they have or control what they don’t.
Believing they know enough and are enough so stay within the walls of their blinkered, privileged, superficial echo chamber.
Seeing anything different or new as – at best – hard work or, at worst, the enemy.
Living by headlines, not experience, curiosity and understanding.
So while Mum most definitely had her quirks, I’m increasingly grateful that she – and Dad – taught me variety isn’t the spice of life, it’s makes sense of it.
Thank you my dear, wonderful Mum.
