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


Respect Ignites The Beauty In Competition …
April 13, 2022, 8:15 am
Filed under: Attitude & Aptitude, Childhood, Comment, Football, Nottingham, Nottingham Forest

A few weeks ago, Nottingham Forest played Liverpool in the FA cup.

It was the first time in 23 years we had played each other and while the recent history of both clubs could mot be further apart, seeing the, both acknowledge their old rivalry – when they ruled Europe – was something special to see.

Liverpool started it with this magnificent video.

Watching it was very moving to me.

Not just because it takes me back to my childhood, but it takes me back to matches I actually attended.

With my Dad and friends.

Special times.

Memories of my youth, my home, my family.

And then Forest did something that made me incredibly proud.

To honour the 97 Liverpool fans who tragically died at Hillsborough – when Liverpool again played Forest – they did this.

With all the shit going on in the World at the moment, seeing old enemies respect each other before competing against each other was something wonderful to see.

Even though we lost 0-1 and our roof suddenly started leaking as there was a huge storm in Auckland while the match was on … it was still a welcome distraction from the feeling of fear that has permeated the globe thanks to the ego of old, rich, toxic, white politicians.

So thank you to Liverpool for the moment and the memories [again] and thank you to Nottingham Forest for letting me believe that even in the worst of times, there’s a chance for something special to come out the other side.

Come on you reds.



When Forest Were Great And Football Ads Were Poor …

Once upon a time, Nottingham Forest were magic.

So magic, they were Kings of Europe. Twice in a row.

So magic, they had a song about it.

So magic, Adidas used them as proof of their football credentials in ads …

That team was amazing.

I even remember those boots.

But I must admit I don’t remember Adidas being the ‘science of sport’ – even though that is the most German sport tagline ever written – all I remember is that at my school, Adidas stood for All Day I Dream About Sex”.

Even though I probably didn’t even know what sex was back then,.

And while I still find it hard to accept my beloved team wore the football gear of the enemy – though I did try to get NIKE to sponsor them, once even including it as a recommendation in a strategy deck which was met by howling laughter – I accept it is nice to see at least one international brand recognised their incredible achievements.

But for all that, Adidas – and Nottingham Forest – will never beat Nike for this.

Still the best World Cup spot. Ever.

Unlikely ever to be beaten.

And trust me, we tried. Hard.

Which maybe says more about what clients want these days than creative ambition.

Maybe,



Happy Anniversary Mum And Dad …

Today would have been my parents 58th wedding anniversary.

Amazing.

And while the reality is Dad died 23 years ago and Mum 7, they had a good marriage.

Yes there were some hard times along the way.

Some that still hurt deeply when I think of them.

As is often the case, they were brought on by stress triggered by a lack of money, health issues and/or family bullshit they were pulled into.

But while there are some moments that I wish could be erased forever, I was brought up in a house of love and support.

Love for each other.
Love for me.
Love for us.

As I said at both my parents funerals, I never wanted for their support or compassion and it was only as I grew older that I realised how lucky I am for that.

The photo above was taken at the Nottingham Registry Office where they got married.

They’d been living in London but came to Nottingham to be closer to my Dad’s family.

They were only supposed to be there for a few years – but you know how it is.

I always thought that must have been hard for my Mum.

Don’t get me wrong, she liked Nottingham … but she was Italian, had moved to London for adventure but met Dad, fell in love and then found herself in the Midlands, even further away from her family.

I think when I came along, it may have helped because she wouldn’t have wanted to raise me in central London and so Nottingham probably became quite a good place then.

She stayed there for a long time.

A lot longer than she had lived in Italy.

We had talked – prior to her death – if she wanted to move back to Italy.

It was a real consideration.

Dad had died. Long term neighbours had died or moved away. Her sister was alone in the family home back in Guardiagrele.

But it didn’t happen and now her ashes, like Dad’s, are scattered over their beloved garden. The garden that was my family home and always will be, despite eventually selling the house.

I’ve written about how hard that decision was.

How conflicted I was when it suddenly became mine.

But I think they would be happy how I handled it. Plus I have a beautiful jar of soil from that house with me. And by selling the incredibly generous gift of their inheritance, I was able to buy our family home in the UK. A home with a garden my parents would absolutely approve of.

I still remember the bizarre moment Mum and I went to register Dad’s death and we realised it was in the same place as where they got married.

It had a weird closed circle to it.

Similar to the fact Mum died in the same hospital where I was born.

I miss them. I regret that I didn’t really talk to them about these things.

Part of that was because I thought I’d have more time to do it but alas, Dad fell ill when I was just 24. And then I kept moving countries.

But I’m very glad they got married 58 years ago today.

Because they gave me a childhood and a family that was as special as they were.

Happy Anniversary Mum and Dad. I hope you’re holding hands and laughing at the silliness and joy your son and his family get up to.

Rx



There When They’re Not …
March 25, 2022, 8:15 am
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Comment, Dad, Death, Family, Fatherhood, Home, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, Nottingham, Otis

A few weeks ago, I saw a tweet by the comedian, David Baddiel.

It was this.


It was late, but there was something about it that really touched me.

Of course, hearing a parent has died is always sad. And over the years, my stance on Mr Baddiel has gone from ‘annoying’ to ‘wonderful’. But I think it was the sight of the worn chair that got me. A reminder of a parent who preferred comfort over new. A father who saw the chair worn in rather than worn out. An extention of the parent rather than just another piece of furniture in the home.

I definitely related to that.

I still remember going into Mum’s bedroom after she died – the bedroom that my shared my entire childhood – and saw it was a bit worn out. Needed some care, some attention, some updating. But what’s interesting is that while I’d been in that room a million times, it was only then that I the condition. Because when my parents were in that room … in that bed … the whole room radiated love and life and all the worn paint and old carpet disappeared from view.

But I also know how important it is to hold on to some of that.

Getting rid of your parents belongings is devastating.

I definitely remember genuinely considering hiring a security guard to just sit outside the house so I could keep it exactly the way it was. Hell, I even tried to buy the home phone number from British Telecom, or whatever they’re called these days – so I would have a connection to my past … to my parents … forever.

Jill gently convinced me that wasn’t the best way to move forward. Reminded me that wouldn’t be what my parents would want. But she also knew I needed to keep a physical connection to them and that house … so she came up with a brilliant idea that I thought may help a man I don’t know, get through a terribly painful situation I do know all too well.

So I responded to him with this and went to sleep.

The next morning I woke up to my phone screen full of twitter notifications and saw this.

Thousands of likes.
Hundreds of comments.
A mass of retweets.

I couldn’t quite believe it.

And when I read the comments, every single one was positive.

No snark. No pisstaking. Just a mass of lovely, considerate, words. Which was more wonderful than I could ever have imagined, because as much as it’s nice to have something you said/did liked by so many, what made the biggest impact was so many people saying they now had a way to take their family and home with them, when their family and home are no longer there.

A bit of calm in the worst of storms.

And since I wrote this post, the number of people who liked it and commented on how this can help them deal with their grief has increased more and more.

So thank you Jill.

You helped not just make one of my hardest times, less dark, you have helped others see a way out of their darkest moment.



The Difference Between Interested And Committed …

I love Roy Keene.

I know people say he could start an argument in an empty house, but I have the upmost respect for him.

Not because he used to play at Nottingham Forest.

Nor because he has always spoken respectfully about at the City Ground … especially with the legendary Mr Clough.

But because he has always been utterly committed to what he does and what he believes.

The reason I find that worthy of note is because too many people confuse interest with commitment.

Interest means you will change when something else comes along.
Interest means you’ll take a shortcut when easier options become available.
Interest means you will priorities ideas that offer more popular possibility options.

But commitment is different.

Commitment is a stubborn, steadfast, obsessive focus on what is the most important.

No shortcuts. No distractions. No deluding yourself or others.

Many may find that annoying. Especially colleagues.

They’ll likely – probably rightly – read it as you making a judgement on their values and priorities. They may freeze you out or just question your sanity.

But commitment doesn’t mean you’re not open to new experiences or new ideas.

Nor does it mean you are out-of-date or a stick in the mud.

It simply means you’ll never let someone call you out for never giving your all to what you do.

You may make mistakes.

You may be seen as decisive or confronting.

But you’ll never be accused of not giving your all to all you do.

I’ve worked with a few people like this over the years.

All – without doubt – made me better in a multitude of ways.

And while I don’t deny they weren’t always easy. They were always worth it.

In a World where we celebrate the interesting. Let’s not lose sight of the importance of the committed. To make sure you know the difference, watch this. All of it. It’s brilliant.