Filed under: April 1, Bird, Bonnie, Cats, Dog, Family, Home, Jill, Otis, Rosie, Sky
It’s April 1.
Normally on this day, I undertake an elaborate ‘April Fool’ post.
There’s been some good ones in the past.
The ‘Method Planning’ post.
The ‘Sniffer Dog, Retail Location Scout’ post.
The ‘AI Human Robot Focus Group’ post.
The ‘Poetry Drives Communication Effectiveness’ post.
… I say good, mainly because some people fell for them and then repeated the ‘methodology’ without realizing they were actually publicizing their own gullibility.
That said, there have been many that have just been shit … and I don’t mean that just because people saw through them like a greenhouse.
But today there is no April Fool … both because I’m trying to come to terms with the fact we’re in month 4 of 2025 already and because later this week, the joke is on me – because in just 5 days, we welcome a dog, Bonnie, into our lives and home.
A puppy is very different to a cat.
More energy.
More dependence.
More biting.
More noise.
More trouble.
More mess.
And yet, despite all that, I have to say I’m very much looking forward to the house having an additional member in the place.
While we have Sky – Otis’ bad-tempered budgie – the loss of Rosie, is still felt … despite the fact that she slept for a lot of her final years, and no one feels this more than Jill.
She used to love having Rosie sitting next to her as she worked.
Snoozing on a pillow next to her computer. Occasionally waking up to quietly judge her or her work or demand that Friskies be fed to her by hand whenever she chooses.
It was a nice interruption given she spent a lot of time on her own while I was at the office and Otis was at school.
And while she likes the momentary peace and quiet she gets from us being away – going from 1000 decibels of noise to 1 is extreme.
For her, the silence becomes loud-as-fuck with the time passing slower than a snail.
It can be pretty lonely and intimidating to be honest … and while she has never complained about it, I know that’s one of the reasons why she has always loved animals and why they’ve always been so important in her life.
So while Bonnie will, for all intents and purposes, be Otis’ pooch … she, along with Sky, will be Jill’s workday colleague and after 20+ years of waiting for a dog, I’ve never been so happy to be the April Fool.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, America, Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Death, Deutsch, Donn, Family, Fashion, Friendship, Love, Otis
So I’m back and it was, as expected, amazing.
Obviously I have a deep love of Asia, but I have a special place in my heart for Vietnam.
Anyone who knows anything about history will understand the creativity of the place, be that its food, its art, its industry or its ability to find ways to beat every enemy who has tried to invade in the last 1000 years.
So it’s little surprise that Spikes Asia chose to hold their judging for the creative and strategy awards there … which meant I got to see some phenomenal work, some great friends and some awesome tourist stuff.
Oh, and my eye generally held up [but unfortunately not totally, hence trips back to the hospital and meds for a bit longer] but all in all it was a really fucking great week.
But I know there’s nothing worse than hearing someone talk about how great things were for them when you were stuck in the office dealing with shit so to try and win back some errrrrm, favour, let me tell you a little story.
One day – hopefully a long time in the future – my son, Otis, will go to a lawyer to hear the reading of his old mans ‘last will and testament’.
Hopefully, when he hears there’s not much left, he will find this post featuring the latest photograph someone has sent me linked to something I did to/for them a few years back [and let’s be honest, there are a TON of them] thinks, “my Dad was a mischievous sod”, rather than – as I fear – “my Dad went broke buying stupid shit to embarrass/take-the-piss out of people he loved”.
Mind you, given I love every fibre of that kid, its safe to say he will have a lot of stuff to remember me by.
Even if it might be [read: probably is] stuff he’d rather forget.
Oh well, beggars can’t be choosers.
Thank you for giving me a smile Donn … given I bought you that jumper back in 2018, it would suggest 2 things.
1. It may offer me the best ROI of anything I’ve ever bought in my life.
2. You should stay well away from Harper’s softball buddies Dad and his weird internet browsing habits.
Always looking out for you Donn. You special bloody human.
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.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Bird, Bonnie, Cats, Comment, Family, Happiness, Home, Jill, Love, Loyalty, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, Otis, Rosie, Sky
I’m back.
But I barely survived.
Part of that is because my trip was full-on.
The other part is having a puppy is even more full-on.
Seriously, it’s like having a baby all over again. Fortunately, we loved that period of our life so it’s not too bad … but bloody hell, it’s also pretty demanding.
A few months ago, I wrote about how people in agencies should be taught ‘the art of conflict management‘ … but now I think the other skill we should all be taught is puppy training.
If that doesn’t teach you how to be patient and calm when facing a barrage of noise and needs, nothing will.
That, or go work in China, hahaha.
That said, it is lovely having a pet in the house again. As I wrote before, while Rosie was a small cat, she filled the house with her presence and personality – and while we still have had Otis’, Sky, over these months, it hasn’t been quite the same.
But now, with Bonnie, the house has a new energy in it.
Sure, it’s slightly manic and lacking any degree of peace … but that’s a small price to pay to have life bubbling again. No wonder my Mum loved it when I came home to visit her. Not just because she was very happy to see me, but because my friends would come around and suddenly the place was a bustle of noise and laughter … a rewind to what daily life was like when Dad and I were around.
I get it. I just wish I could tell her that I do.
What’s interesting is we didn’t meet our dog until we picked her up … so we were totally reliant on the breeder being smart with her recommendation. Not because we were being picky about its looks … but because in addition to being a family pet, she has to be a trained support dog for Otis, hence temperament is key.
Thanks to the training she’s received from the breeder – and us – so far, it’s been good, but like Rosie it will definitely take some time until we find our own unique rhythm.
Finding the rhythm is a magical thing.
Some of it comes from ritual. Some from the environment. But most of it comes from the interactions you have and keep having together.
But when you find it, it’s special because it evolves into a sort-of invisible bridge where you can come together in the middle … with the knowledge to understand the unsaid. To interpret different sounds and signs.
It’s why that quote at the top of the page made such an impact on me when I read it.
A reminder that one of the most powerful ways to know how much someone has impacted you, is to look for those traits in others. Not so they become who someone was, but because they show you the best you can be.
So welcome Bonnie. Thank you for what you’ve given us already.