Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Dad, Family, Jill, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, Otis
I appreciate that in some ways, I’m a total fucking hypocrite writing this.
I work too much.
I travel too much.
I – if I’m being honest – love what I do too much.
That doesn’t mean I don’t love my family with all my heart … however as I wrote recently, I also realize I’d not shown how much of a priority they were to me as much as I want them to feel.
Given my wife has enabled me to have the career – and life – I/we enjoy … and the fact my son is 10 years old … it’s pretty fucking appalling it took me so long to fully grasp this concept to be honest.
That doesn’t mean I’m no longer ambitious, nor does it mean my family have stopped generously encouraging me to go after the things that interest and excite me – it’s just that I’ve chosen to stop being a Labrador Puppy who chases everything that captures my attention and, in terms of my time, my family now always wins … which is something I’m ashamed to admit was probably not always the case, all of the time.
Now I am not trying in any way to suggest I have got it all sorted out. I’m 55, so to have only recently worked this out shows that’s definitely not the case. Nor am I judging anyone who lives or thinks differently. Plus I am still hardwired to fuck myself over – literally today I realized that throughout my entire career, wherever I’ve worked, I’ve been the first person to be in the office day after day after day. All the time. Everytime. Everyday.
Idiot. [Though in my defense, it is often the only time I get to do my work before the mania begins of colleagues, ha]
But the point of this post is one thing I hear from lots of people is their desire to have a better work/life balance.
What ‘better’ is, is up to them … but the likelihood is they want more time with the people that matter most to them than the people who employ them. Yes, that’s an assumption, but I don’t think it is entirely unjustified.
And recently I heard something that not only helped reinforce why this matters, but could ensure you do all you can to make sure it does.
It was this.
If you’re a parent … your role as father or mother will outlive you.
That’s it.
That simple.
And while we all know that, I doubt we think about it in those terms.
I know for a fact that even though my Dad has been gone 26 years and my Mum 10 … their presence and impact in my life continues. And the older I get, the more I realise, respect and am grateful for all they did to ensure they were active and present in my life. Whatever the challenges they faced – and they faced a lot.
Now compare this to work life.
However popular you are, if you’re lucky … you’ll be remembered for maybe a few weeks after you’ve left.
That’s it.
Hell – as I wrote recently – that even applies to those people who started the company, let alone just work for it.
So while I am not saying work or ambition isn’t important – for all manner of reasons – it’s a good reminder of what deserves our focus and who will actually value it the most, for all the right reasons.
Of course, being able to even think this is a privilege, given there’s a shitload of people who want to spend much more time with their family but can’t … or aren’t able to.
But for those who do have that opportunity, I hope you realise it sooner than I did … because regardless how much we love what we do – or how important we think we are – the only place we’re not replaceable is with our kids.
Hopefully.
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In typical fashion, I am away again – I know, less than a week after I was away for over a week – so there’s no more posts till Monday. So enjoy the additional time away from me and hopefully you can spend it with someone you love, not someone who wastes your time. Like me and this blog.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Age, Attitude & Aptitude, Bonnie, Childhood, Comment, Dad, Daddyhood, Death, Family, Fatherhood, Jewellery, Jill, Love, Loyalty, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, Otis, Parents, Relationships, Resonance, Respect
On Friday I talked about the ring that had replaced my lost wedding ring.
A wedding ring that had been made to combine both my Dad’s wedding ring and the one given to me by Jill.
I wrote how this new ring had – thank god – been able to incorporate some of Dad’s ring [that I’d had left when I had it resized] as well as some things from Jill’s ring [that she kindly donated to me] so that it was something of real significance and sentimental value to me.
I treasure it.
It’s far more than the metal it’s made of.
But recently I saw something that reminded me why it is so significant.
This …
I don’t know why, but the thought I will [hopefully] know Otis more as an adult than a kid completely fucked with me.
Of course he will always be ‘my child’ but being the person I see every day … the person I watch growing up in front of me … the person he turns to for laughs, help, advice or an audience … the person who loves and hugs his dog … is something I treasure deep in my psyche and soul.
As I wrote before, while all parents know their kids grow up fast, what makes it tolerable is that as they develop … they learn or express new things that you adore, which helps offsets the sadness of seeing the old things you loved, fall away.
But there will be a time where you don’t get to see this growth every day.
Where you aren’t their World, you’re just a part of it. One associated more with the past than the present.
Back in 2016, I wrote about that – based on an brilliant article in The Guardian – and fuck me, if it was hard to deal with then, it’s even harder to accept 9 years later as we get closer and closer to a time he will move on, that you know is coming but wish wasn’t.
That doesn’t mean you don’t want your child to have their own life.
To forge their own interests and passions and journeys moving forward.
But the idea of being relegated to ‘observer’ is hard, even though – as my parents showed with me – it is one of the greatest gift you could ever give your child.
The values to live.
The lessons to progress.
The encouragement to explore.
The freedom to build write your own story.
What brought this all to a head was a video I watched of Michelle Obama recently, talking about her Mum.
“Wow, this went fast”.
Not just watching your child become an adult, but life.
And as much as Mae West said: “you only live once, but if you do it right … once is all you need”, the reality is life does go fast.
What makes it more bizarre is that as you get older … as life passes-by slower … it all seems to accelerate at the same time.
Which is why it’s so important to treasure and value what you have.
Not take it for granted.
Not get swept up with the things that – in the big scheme of things – don’t matter.
It’s taken me a long time to learn this.
It’s taken watching my wonderful, brilliant son grow up to really understand this.
Despite watching my amazing Mum and Dad pass, it’s Otis who has helped me appreciate time and life.
Not just with him, but with everyone around me.
Which is why that video of ‘knowing your child more as an adult than a kid’ hit me.
Not because that is bad, but because the moment is so special.
And while growing up is a good and natural thing – which I have obviously been trying to come to terms with for a long time, given I wrote this about Otis becoming an adult back in 2021 – it’s still a reminder that you rarely know you’re living the time of your life, until after it has passed.
It’s why both those videos may have been uncomfortable reminders.
But also beautiful gifts.
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.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Art, Jill, My Fatherhood, New Zealand, Otis
It’s been a relatively ‘heavy’ week of posts this week, so I thought I’d end it on a ‘friday high’. Or something.
While I was sunning myself in the South of France, my family were dealing with the winter of Auckland.
Truth be told, winter here is not really that bad.
Sure it’s colder … but it’s not freezing.
To be honest, the worst thing is the rain and it’s not even been doing that, that much.
Rain in NZ is an epic thing.
A monsoon meets the most powerful shower you’ve ever seen. In fact, when I moved here, I went to see someones house – which was all glass – and when I said, “it must be a bugger to clean those windows”, they replied:
“No, we just wait till it rains”.
I thought they were joking, until I found out they weren’t.
But I digress.
Anyway, so one morning I got a text from Jill saying Otis had left a message on my car.
It was this:
And while I could claim it was him showing his future ‘Banksy’ credentials or – like the Nottingham Evening Post once tried to claim – suggest they were his expression of ‘cherries’ – we all know what it is and I have to say, it made me laugh.
Not as much as it made him, but close.
Sure, some of that was because I missed him. But mostly it was because I knew how much he would have giggled doing it. A moment of cheekiness to his Dad in front of his Mum.
And for me, that’s a sign he feels safe in life.
That he’s in a loving, supportive family.
But most of all, that he’s a classic 10 year old kid.
Which given all he’s had to deal with, manage and endure over the past few years – always with good grace and optimism – is something to feel very happy about.
So thank you Otis, I love it. Just don’t ever do it with paint please.
Happy weekend.
Filed under: 2025, Birthday, Childhood, Dad, Death, Immaturity, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, Old, Parents
So it’s June.
That means we’re 6 months into the year already – WHATTHEACTUAL?!
It’s going to be a big month for me …
I’ve got a bunch of big meetings, a bunch of big travel, the small matter of giving a talk – with Paula – at Cannes and turning FIFTYFUCKINGFIVE.
Jesus Christ … I am now, proper old.
I appreciate the difference between 54 and 55 doesn’t seem massive, but let me tell you it is.
You see over the past few weeks, I’ve been receiving letters from the UK about my pension.
I’d never really received these before so it seemed a bit strange … strange enough for me to call them to find out what the hell was going on. And that’s where 2 things happened that shook me to my core.
The first was that they were letting me know that I was approaching a time where I could either ‘cash them in’ or move them into a different scheme. Given I’ve not lived in the UK for most of my adult life, there’s not much in there so I’ve never really paid attention to it.
It was at this point I asked how could I cash it in if I chose to … to which the very kind woman on the end of the line said:
“You just contact us 6 weeks before you turn 55 and we make it happen for you”.
I paused for a moment before replying,
“We are 6 weeks before I turn 55”.
And let me tell you, she was as shocked as me with that news – albeit her shock was because she hadn’t checked my date-of-birth whereas my shock was I could cash in – should I choose – my fucking pension.
How was this possible?
Pensions are for when people are ancient.
A 1000 years into the future. How the hell am I eligible for mine now?
But I guess I am … because I am ancient.
So ancient, I’m only 5 years off when my Dad died – which is terrifying for a whole host of obvious and less obvious reasons.
Except I don’t feel 55.
In fact, I feel younger than I have in decades. I am healthier too.
But despite that – and the fact my maturity level still resides around 14 years of age – you can’t stop getting older however hard you may try, so no doubt I am on the path to playing bowls each afternoon, complaining about the kids in the neighborhood ‘for making too much noise’ and smelling of wee. Or something.
And just remember before you all take the piss out of me.
You’ve got all this coming … so don’t be too cocky, because the one good thing about getting old, is you don’t give a fuck about keeping your mouth shut.
Not that I’ve ever had a problem with that – which I’ve literally just realized why Rupert Howell used to say I was the youngest old person he had ever met.
Oh God, as Monday’s go, this one sucks balls.
Happy fucking June.
