Filed under: Agency Culture, Attitude & Aptitude, Colleagues, Confidence, Contribution, Creativity, Culture, Easter, Leadership, Management, Mischief, My Fatherhood, Parents, Perspective, Privilege, Process, Professionalism, Provocative

Today is the last post until the 7th April, thanks to Easter.
As many of you know, I’m not religious in the least – but if there’s a holiday in it, especially a holiday with a justification to eat the stuff I don’t allow myself to consume at any other point of the year, I’m all in on it.
So before I get on with today’s post, I wish you all a happy chocolate eating period … let’s be honest, with the shit going on in the World right now, we deserve whatever can make us happy for a few minutes.
Right … so let’s get on with things shall we>
There’s a term that states:
“Ask for forgiveness rather than permission”.
I get why … because however open minded a company may claim they are, most only want to operate within the narrow guidelines they’ve always followed.
That’s why, if there’s something you want to do that you know challenges convention – it’s better to do it and apologise later [regardless of the outcome] than ask first and likely lose the chance forever.
I have decades of experience of doing this – and have the written warnings to prove it [haha] – but what enabled me to get away with it was this:
1. I always had/have a logic driving my actions. Even if others didn’t/don’t quite agree with it – there is a reason that drives my desire to do something commercially and creatively original, interesting and/or different.
2. Whatever I did never crossed any legal, moral, financial or commercial line. I may be a nightmare at times, but with a family of lawyers, I’m not a total idiot.
3. Regardless of the outcome – good or bad [and more often than not, it was good. Eventually – haha] I always came clean to my boss. The reality it I knew they’d always find out eventually and it was far better to own it than be owned by it.
4. For most of my career, I’ve worked with/for bosses who I deeply respect and who I knew not only understood who I was – and had hired me because of it – but shared a similar belief of pushing things to explore new things. Not for wreckless or egotistical reasons, but out of pure creative, cultural or commercial curiosity. [Albeit they tended to be more considered, deliberate and discerning in their choices than me]
And it’s this last point that I’ve come to realise is one of the most important and valuable things any employee could ask for. In fact I’d go one further, I’d say I regard it as one of the most important factors when looking for a job.
Right now, it appears too many managers are more focused on managing up rather than lifting their people up. Caring more about how they look to their bosses than enabling their teams to develop, grow and lead in such a way that their worth to the organisation is blatantly apparent.
On one level, I get it.
Times are tough out there and you don’t want your future placed entirely in the hands of others actions and behaviours – except that’s the whole point of being a manager. Or at least in my book it is.
As I’ve said many times over the years, I believe the role of a manager is to help their people embrace and grow their talent in such a way that when they leave – as we all do at some point – they have more opportunities than they ever imagined having and that when someone wants to hire them … its as much for who they are and what they do as it is there’s a role that needs to be filled.
Does that always happen? No.
Has it happened more often than not? Yes.
Now I should point out I am not claiming any credit for what people have gone on to achieve – they did it with their own talent, experience and work – but I am saying that is the driving force behind how I approach my job … how I’ve always approached my job … and how I hope my colleagues see me approaching my job.
Put simply, working towards what they’re working towards or putting them in positions of opportunity where they have the right to say “no” to something rather than it being decided for them by someone else.
And if that sounds selfless, it’s not.
Because fundamentally, if they do well, I do well.
It’s how I demonstrate my worth to the people who are evaluating my worth. Because I believe there’s more value in liberating my teams potential than supressing it so only I look good to the powers-that-be.
To be honest, I’m worried this is all coming out the wrong way. I’m not trying to big-up my management skills – at the end of the day, the only people who can evaluate if I’m any good are the people who work with me. The point of this post is more about the commercial and professional importance of elevating people’s potential rather than simply focusing on elevating their productivity.
Sure, everyone has a job they have to do.
Sure, everyone has standards and ‘quotas’ they have to hit.
But my view is you achieve much more than that if you let your team grow rather than just makie them work more. And faster.
It’s why I passionately believe my job is far less about giving the team permission, and far more about giving them protection.
Protection from others judgement.
Protection from others attempts to control.
Protection from others formulaic approaches that never led to anything great.
All underpinned in the knowledge you’ve set the right values, standards and rigor that will guide their choices and decisions for every challenge or opportunity – even if things don’t end up going quite as anyone hoped or planned.
In some ways, it’s a bit like being a parent.
Where your role is to teach your kid how to think about handling a situation, rather than what to specifically do.
Or said another way … trusting their judgement, rather than trying to control it, even if they do something differently to how you would have approached it.
Of course people need to earn that trust – as I need to earn it from them – but believing in their ability has to be the starting point, because if you don’t, not only are you failing to create the conditions where they will even ask for permission, you’re creating the conditions where they’ll be too frightened to do anything different in the first place.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Anniversary, Australia, China, Dad, Death, Family, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, Otis

I think my Mum would be strangely happy that I almost forgot to write this post today.
And I did … only realizing last weekend today was the 11th anniversary of my Mum dying.
It’s not even the first time this has happened …
So how come I nearly forgot today – one of the worst days of my entire life – and why do I think Mum be happy about it?
Well, let’s do the practical reasons first …
I write this blog weeks in advance and so sometimes I don’t even think about the date they will appear, I just load them up to be automatically put out. That said, I’ve never nearly forgotten when it is Dad’s anniversary … however that’s a bit different to Mum’s in so much as he died in mid-January and so that tends to be one of the first posts I write every year, coming out the festive holiday season.
But that’s more of an assumptive rationale …
The fact is both my parents blessed me with an amazing childhood and upbringing. I’ve written so much about them over the years – from their endless encouragement to their demonstration of what love really means – and the loss of them was, without doubt, the hardest and biggest challenges I’ve ever had to face and deal with in my life.
But Dad died first – 16 years before Mum – and while I’d experienced the death of people close to me before, that was the one that was the most direct in terms of impact, importance and shock. It meant it took me years before I could think of Dad as the Dad I grew up with … rather than the person he became after his stroke robbed him of who he was and how he was.
But Dad’s passing opened up the ability for Mum and I to talk about death … and we did. A lot.
Not in an ‘impending doom’ kind-of-way … more in terms of the reality of what we’d faced and had to accept and learn.
It meant this was very much top of mind when Mum was going in for her operation. Maybe not spoken about openly, but definitely something that was in eachother’s minds. In fact, it was only after Mum had died – when the operation to extend her life, sadly failed due to a childhood issue that had gone undiagnosed – that I discovered just how much Mum had been thinking about it.
That she had written me ‘notes’ in case the worst happened – featuring information I’d need to make organizing her estate easier – is still one of the most powerful demonstrations of unconditional love I’ve ever seen. Though it still breaks my heart how she must have felt writing them – knowing that she was having to face her own mortality, on her own, while I was on the other side of the planet.
That said – as I wrote the morning she died – we’d found a lovely rhythm in the final few years.

We’d always had a wonderful relationship but there was a period where a few niggles had entered our interactions … nothing much, just a little tension caused by me wanting to take care of her and her wanting to fiercely protect her independence and have me look after myself and my future more. But we’d got past that by realizing both us were coming from a place of love … so we made allowances for each others needs, which meant she let me put money in her bank account every month and I didn’t mind that she never spent a penny of it. Haha.
And while the days leading up to her death will be forever burned in my mind, my memory of Mum has never been stuck in that period, like it was for Dad for all those years. I don’t know why but I’m grateful for it.
Maybe it’s because I became better equipped emotionally after Dad died?
Maybe it’s because Otis was born 3 months before Mum passed and so that period was consumed with happy thoughts throughout that time?
Or maybe it’s because I’d seen Mum a lot before she died – every month for 6 months or so – and so saw the impact of her heart condition on her health – meaning it was less of a surprise to me, even though I thought the operation was going to make things better?
Who knows … but while today will always be significant in my mind, it’s not the main thing that immediately comes to mind. Instead I think of the conversations we had when I came to visit … the pasta she would lovingly make for me … the look of happy surprise on her face when I turned up unannounced from Australia … the tennis she’d play with me on the patio in the back garden in summer when I was a small kid … the joy on her face when she learned she was going to be a Grandma … the stories she would tell me of the films or comedians or concerts she’d gone to see … the quiet contentment we felt when we were in the same room together, even if nothing was being said.
I think of those things WELL before anything to do with her dying.
I think of her grace, her kindness, her love, her curiosity, and her compassion.
I think of how much I wish she could see the grandson she never met, but adored.
I think of how she will never know I lived in America and back in England and now NZ.
I think of how she would react to Bonnie. [And the news of Rosie]
I think of how she would react to ‘healthy me’.
I think of how lucky I was – and am – to be able to call her my Mum.
And that’s why, I am sure Mum would be happy that I almost forgot to write this post …
Because it means her memory is alive and present in my life and that means she achieved what she hoped for most in her life.
That she was a good Mum.
And she was. And still is.
I miss you Mum. I hope you’re with Dad, holding hands.
I love you.

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, America, Asia, Auckland, Authenticity, Bonnie, Cats, China, Comment, Content, Context, Craft, Creativity, Dad, Daddyhood, Death, Design, Emotion, England, Family, Freddie, Happiness, Harmony, Jill, LaLaLand, Love, Loyalty, Mum, Mum & Dad, Music, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, Names, Otis, Queen, Resonance, Respect, Rosie, Shanghai, Tattoo
I got my first tattoo when I was 42.
I was holidaying in LA, saw a tattoo shop and – after some encouragement from my friend Paul – went in and had a big one on the underside of my arm.
Hey, nothing like jumping all in eh.
But from that moment, the tattoo became something very important to me.
To be honest, I’d always wanted one but chickened out because of the fear of pain – but not only did it not hurt at all [in fact I fall asleep when I have them] I discovered it the ultimate way to express my sentimentality towards people, dates and things that held a very significant place in my life.
Since that day way back in 2012, I’ve had loads of tattoos.
Birthdays.
Postcodes.
Phone numbers.
Signatures.
Names, pictures and paws of pets.
Honoring Mum, Dad, Jill, Otis and China.
Personal philosophies and heroes.
Nottingham Forest and Queen.
Some weird shit for some friends.
And nods to LA, UK, NZ and Italy.
There’s not one that I regret because each and every one of them is there for a reason.
No ‘moments of stupidity’.
No ‘this would be good for a laugh’.
No ‘tribal or badly translated rubbish’.
Each tattoo represents something deeply important and significant to me – even if to the causal observer, it may look like I have a bunch of random and weird stuff across my arms.
I say all this because recently, Otis asked if I had any tattoos for him, to which I proudly pointed to the one of his name and his date of birth.
And while he seemed moderately pleased with this, it apparently wasn’t enough because he asked if he could design one … a tattoo that captured who he was and what he believed. And I stupidly said ‘yes’, which is why I am currently in negotiations with him to decide which of these will be inked upon my body in the next few weeks.
For the record, the reason the potential designs are all in type is because I don’t have any room on my arms for a picture and he wants to ensure it is something that can be – and will be – seen at all times, haha.
Now before you think I’m blindly pandering to my son’s whims and wants … he genuinely loves rice. In fact he has it every night for dinner which he claims is because he was born in China … so while his tastes may well change or evolve over time, ‘Rice Is Life’ does capture who he is and what he believes, which means – for me – it ticks all the criteria boxes needed to go out and make it a permanent symbol on my body.
The ad industry could learn from kids for their powers of persuasion.