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.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Agency Culture, Ambition, America, Amsterdam, Asia, Attitude & Aptitude, Auckland, Australia, Bands, Billionaire, Birkenhead, Bonnie, Campaign Magazine, Canada, Career, China, Colenso, Colleagues, Comment, Context, Corporate Evil, Creativity, Culture, Dog, Dream Small, Easter, Empathy, England, Experience, Family, Fashion, Fatherhood, Hong Kong, Japan, Jill, LaLaLand, London, Management, Martin Weigel, Metallica, Michael Jordan, Miley, Mr Ji, Mum, Mum & Dad, Music, My Fatherhood, New Zealand, Nike, Otis, Paul, Paula, R/GA, Relationships, Rockstar Games, Rosie, Shanghai, Singapore, Sunshine, Sydney, The Kennedys, The Kennedys Shanghai, UK, Virgin Atlantic, WeigelCampbell, Wieden+Kennedy
I have written before that apart from my friend Paul, I owe almost everything in my life to the fact I left the UK and went on an adventure.
Without that, I would not have met my wife … would not have had my son … would not have had my pets … would not be working with rock stars … would not have had all the life experiences and adventures I’ve been fortunate to enjoy and almost certainly would not have the career I currently enjoy.
That’s pretty huge when you think about it and while there’s a whole list of people I need to thank for making it all possible, one of them is an old boss.
Who was a prick.
I had a rather complex relationship with this individual.
Because while they were pompous, petty, condescending and rude, they were also smart, knowledgable and experienced.
On top of that, they gave me a shot on a couple of projects that they probably shouldn’t have. I should point out that wasn’t because they necessarily believed in me – it was more there was no one else to do it – but I appreciated it all the same.
Anyway, when I decided to leave – to go explore opportunities in another country – they were pretty pissed off with me.
While I’d love to say it was because they didn’t want me to go, the reality was they were frustrated I was leaving after they’d agreed to give me a payrise.
That this ‘rise’ was still below market rate and they’d fucked me around for literally 2 years, seemed to have completely slipped their mind … which is maybe why on the day I left, they thought it would be ‘funny’ to write the following comment in my leaving card.
“You’ll be back. Come crawling”.
I remember watching him going around telling people what he had written, laughing hilariously at his own ‘joke’ and while I didn’t take it too much to heart – because everyone knew he was a bit of a prick – it still hurt.
Little did I know then, how those 5 little words would play such an pivotal role in how my career would turn out.
You see, when I ended up in this other country, I initially found it very difficult.
Not just because I didn’t have friends, contacts or a job … but because my Dad was very ill back in the UK.
In all honesty, the temptation to go back was huge but there were 2 reasons I stuck it out.
1. I wanted to show my gratitude to my parents for supporting and encouraging me to go, despite them going through a terribly tough time because of my Dad’s major stroke.
2. Those 5 little words.
While I’d like to think the former was the biggest motivator, I fear it may have been the latter.
That’s pretty pathetic isn’t it … especially as I could have gone back without having to go back to that old job.
But I wasn’t going to let him have the satisfaction directly or indirectly.
And so I persevered.
Pushed, prodded, walked the streets, did shitty, temporary roles … anything that kept me from gaving to go back with my tail betweeen my legs.
And it everntually worked out.
Not because of any talent I did or did not have, but because of my perseverence.
And willingness to take any bullshit salary … hahaha.
But for me, getting a break was my main objective … because while I knew I was not the smartest strategst, I knew my work ethic meant I could out-work most.
Now don’t get me wrong, I appreciate that is a toxic trait – but it is my trait – and back then, it was a way for me to prove my worth to agencies/clients who didn’t have to give me a chance or keep me on board.
Of course, over the years, my motivation for continuing to explore the possibilities of the World and my career have evolved.
These days it is far more about wanting to feel I’d be making my parents proud than it is me reacting to 5 little words from a toxic, little manager.
But I also have to acknowledge that without that persons toxic motivation, it is unlikely I would be in the situtation I currently enjoy.
So thank you AC … you were a strange little man, but for all the fucked up shit you did – and there was plenty – you did one thing right, even if it was wrong.
And while I doubt you even remember me – let alone care what I’ve done – it doesn’t matter.
Because I didn’t come back and didn’t come crawling and so for that, I won, so there.
It’s Easter long-weekend that then leads into a big week for me/Colenso – from us hosting Fergus and his OnStrategy podcast to me saying goodbye [for the second time] to someone who is very special to me … so have a great weekend, overeat Chocolate and Hot Cross Buns and I’ll see you Tuesday.
Till then, this is for you AC.
With thanks.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Craft, Creativity, Culture, Emotion, Family, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, Otis, Parents
As you know, I love music.
I play it.
I make it.
I listen to it.
I used to make my living from it.
I work with people who play to millions while they do it.
Music is, in many ways, a version of oxygen to me.
However, while I like all manner of music … from heavy metal to opera … there are some bands I don’t really connect to. One of those is Radiohead.
Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate their talent and there are music/songs they’ve written that I feel are genuinely masterful. But do I think they are worth the reputation that so many people hold them to?
Hmmmmmn, probably not … which I appreciate is entirely subjective rather than anything approaching a considered point-of-view.
And yet, I recently saw someone perform one of their songs – the admittedly iconic, ‘Creep’ – that has had such an impact on me, that I literally burst into tears at a specific point of the song, every time I listen to it.
And I’ve listened to it a lot.
I should point out that while I have always liked that track, it’s less to do with the song and more to do with who performs it and how they perform it.
It’s this [with my tears starting at exactly 2 minutes 8 seconds ]
Oh my god, I’ve just listened to it again as I am writing this and the tears are streaming down my face.
Now I should point out I have form at crying to music.
My Mum used to tell me that when I was very young – like 6 months old – I would cry at classic music that she’d put on the record player. Not because I didn’t like it, but because I was overwhelmed by the emotion of it.
And here I am, aged 54, still doing it.
There are many reasons for it.
First it’s just fucking beautiful. Proper, proper beautiful.
It’s both so simple and yet so layered …
But it’s also how two totally different musical styles bend and blend into some sort of harmonious rapture.
Where different orchestrations seem to be going on their own paths and yet, at some point, come together.
Not mechanically, but with almost a slow motion to them … making the impact of it even more majestic.
But, if I am being honest, as amazing as that is, what really hits me is this is Son and Mum.
It makes me emotional just thinking about it.
Not just because it makes me miss my Mum so much, but because both of them have come together to create something special for each other. And I do think it started that way.
The son believing his Mother’s voice was incredible. The mum wanting to support her son’s musical talent.
A genuine interest in what each other is interested in.
No judgement.
No criticism.
Just interest and openness while being able to stay utterly true to who they each are.
And by doing this, they’ve taken their separate world’s and created something together. Something special. Something that elevates their relationship because it has opened the door to new ways to share and express their love that maybe they previously never imagined.
But it’s even more than that.
Because running all the way through those 3 minutes, 25 seconds is a celebration of love.
Not just because they’re bonded by blood, but because you feel the deep sense of pride, respect and adoration of who each other is and what each other does.
It’s similar to when Pink Floyd guitarist, Dave Gilmour, turned up unannounced to a pub in Brighton to support – and sing – with his daughter Romany and yet it is also very different.
Because where Dave and Romany sang a song that was a relatively faithful rendition of the original [not to mention something you imagine they’d done together in private for years – which is said with love, not judgement] the version of ‘Creep’ is something else.
A mash-up of totally different musical styles.
A creation of something not heard before.
Something that not only takes the song to a completely new place, but demands all who listen to it open their eyes and ears to a musical style that they may of never heard before or most probably never considered would be something they’d like.
But how can you not like this.
How can you not be moved by it.
Because while the song is about low self esteem, loneliness, and the struggle to accept yourself, it inspires, radiates and ignites pure love.
The sort of love surely everyone hopes they will one day get to experience, create, share or remember.
And that is what my tears are for. And that is why I’m so grateful for them.
Remember to tell the people who matter to you, what they mean to you.
Have a good weekend.
Filed under: 2025, Anniversary, Attitude & Aptitude, Content, Context, Creativity, Dad, Daddyhood, Death, Emotion, Empathy, Jill, Love, Loyalty, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, Otis, Parents
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.
