Filed under: Attitude & Aptitude, Childhood, Dad, Mum, Mum & Dad, Nottingham, Parents, Paul
While I grew up in a very middle-class family, our income was definitely not.
There was never much money around and there were some seriously tough times.
One of them – the worst of them – will stay with me until I die. It was horrific and traumatic and had a huge influence in how I live my life.
I should point out none of this was not because my parents were out spending beyond their means. While they had good jobs, they didn’t get paid much at all and so they faced a constant battle to make ends meet.
Not that I knew any of this when I was young.
My parents ensured I never went without.
Only when I got older did I see what they sacrificed to ensure I didn’t have to.
It’s a big reason for my work ethic.
I know … I know … many of you think I haven’t got one, but I do. Honest.
And it’s not because I don’t want to be in the same position they found themselves in [I mean, I don’t … but it had nothing to do with their work ethic, which was huge] … it’s because I don’t want to feel all the sacrifices they made, were in vain.
That despite all that, all they ever wanted for me was to live a life of fulfillment is incredible.
Hell, they even backed me when I explained to them why I didn’t want to go to university – which was something I know was important for them.
It’s probably why I have been so open to living around the world … because deep down, it is something I imagine would have made my parents proud. Even more so given it has enabled me to forge a life free from many of the things they had to endure.
Because that’s another thing they wanted for me.
Security.
But not through the repetition of something I didn’t enjoy, but as a byproduct of something I did.
I’m 53 and still coming to terms with how amazing my parents are.
It’s also why I feel a bit guilty as to how I was as a kid.
Because I liked stuff.
Expensive stuff.
OK, by today’s standards it is nothing … but back in the early 70’s and 80’s, it was. Even more so when your parents didn’t earn much.
Raleigh Grifter. Tin Can Alley. Astro Wars. Etc etc.
I discovered a lot of it because of the Argos Catalogue.
My grandmother had it and when I went to see her, I read it religiously.
Cover to cover. Forwards and backwards.
For me it was like a bible … a portal to another world. One filled with possibilities and opportunities that I didn’t even know were a possibility.
The other way I found things I liked was through friends. Specifically, my best friend, Paul.
You see Paul had 2 things that inspired and influenced me.
One was an older brother and sister who owned things that were so outside my frame of reference, they could have been made by an alien lifeforce from the future.
The other was wealth.
Put simply, his parents were loaded.
They had TWO cars.
Their house had TWO bathrooms.
Their house had TWO televisions.
Their house had an electric organ annnnnnnnd, they had this.
Yep, that’s a Hostess trolley.
Actually that looks like the Hostess tray, which I assume came out prior to the trolley … which had room for plates, not just food.
For those who don’t know what it is, it’s a machine designed with compartments to keep different food warm.
Not in the kitchen … but at the table!!!
It’s like a hotel buffet … lift off the lid and the grab the warm food inside.
The advertising used to say, ‘The Hostess With The Mostest’. Which is shit, yet also ace.
Owning one could only mean one thing … you had events at your house where lots of people would come and eat and to me, that was peak-posh.
Now if I’m honest, I don’t know if I ever saw them actually ever use it – maybe for family Christmas, but that would be it – but the fact they had one and my parents wouldn’t even have enough plates to fill one, was a big sign to a little boy that his family were doing a hell of a lot better than we were.
If I’m honest, I kind of knew this already …
They would go out to dinner every week, we would go to a $4.99 Berni Inn steak and strawberry dinner once a year.
They went on overseas holidays every year whereas we didn’t go anywhere for year after year after year.
But I was never jealous – not even when Paul came back from HK with the first ever Casio Calculator watch. Not just because my parents made sure I didn’t go without – especially in terms of love – but because Paul’s family were/are like a second family to me.
[That said, I was jealous of his Fisher Price Garage, Speak & Spell and Race & Chase … but he let me use those a lot, so I got over it pretty quick]
However since someone sent me the picture above of the Hostess Trolley, I’m wondering if I’ve been keeping my jealousy deep down. Because despite having not seen or thought about that product since I was probably 10 years old, I really want it.
Not a new one, but one from the early 1980’s.
Not because we’d use it – and we wouldn’t have even turned it on if my parents had it – but because back in 1980, I saw that as a real symbol of status and I’d like to own one.
Ironically, not so I can feel ‘I’ve made it’, but to remind me what I used to think success was. Not to ridicule myself, but to be grateful and thankful to my parents for all they did for me, including keeping my feet – and taste – [mainly] on the bloody ground.
Filed under: Apathy, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, Childhood, Context, Corporate Evil, Culture, Emotion, Empathy, England, Entertainment, Football, Mediocrity, Music, Nottingham, Nottingham Forest, Paul, Queen, Sentimentality, Sport, World Cup
Recently I came across this photo of the old Wembley being demolished …
And while I know the new stadium is better – albeit with terrible wifi/phone signal access, which is ironic given it’s sponsored by O2 – there was something about that photo that made me sad.
Of course it’s because I’m a sentimental fart.
Because despite seeing my beloved Nottingham Forest gain promotion in the new stadium, that old one has even more significant memories for me.
Live Aid.
Seeing Queen there.
And the Freddie Mercury Tribute Concert.
Not to mention Bruce Springsteen, Madonna and countless other bands and singers.
Then there’s watching Brian Clough lead Nottingham Forest out for their various cup finals.
There was something magical about that old stadium when I was growing up.
It was the pinnacle. Where World Cups and Legends were celebrated and made.
And while there were other venues around the World that could lay claim to a similar standing … this was mine. In England. In our capital. A way to reinforce that for all the Madison Square Gardens and Giant Stadiums out there, we had ours. We still mattered. A bit.
Now I should point out I’m not saying this from a xenophobic ‘ENG-GER-LAND’ perspective … I mean it more in the same way I viewed Raleigh Bikes in Nottingham.
And while we replaced Wembley with a new and improved version – which is far more than Raleigh managed to do – there’s something about that photo that still hurts.
Not because I don’t love change – because even though I’m a sentimental, old fart, I do – but maybe because the replacement feels a bit soulless. Designed to look the part without ever really demonstrating they understand what it takes to be the part. Efficiency over character. Optimisation over soul. Money over memory.
I get this is probably only felt by people of a certain age.
I get the times have changed and so Wembley is not as unique as it once was.
But what shapes our identity is often the weird, the inconvenient and the personal symbols of possibility … and somewhere along the line, we’ve been made to think these aren’t as important as efficiency and complicity. Of course the irony of this thinking is that this is the sort of shit that is keeping us down rather than lifting us up.
Or maybe that’s exactly what some people intend it to do.
Jesus, I’ve become a conspiracy theorist now. That’s all we need.
See you tomorrow. Unless the FBI pick me up before then.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Age, Attitude & Aptitude, Bands, Bangkok Shakes, Childhood, Culture, Music, Nottingham, Paul, Queen, Relevance, Resonance, Respect
When I was a kid in Nottingham, there were 3 independent record shops I continually went to.
WayAhead, Rob’s Records and Selectadisc.
OK, part of this was because there were no major record shops in Nottingham at that time – Our Price, Virgin and HMV all arrived [and left] years later – so unless you were happy with the extremely limited range available in Boots, they were your only options.
Not that they were a ‘lesser’ experience to the big chains. Far from it.
In fact WayAhead became my Mecca because it was a pure rock and metal store. The only one in Nottingham … a place that loved the music rather than just sold it. A place – when I look back – that not only helped forge my identity as a teen, but gave me a space where I could feel safe and supported in it.
It’s also the location where I queued up all night just to ensure I could get Queen tickets for their Works Tour. So the memories are deep and strong.
Rob’s Records was a second hand store up a small alley called Hurts Yard.
WayAhead used to be a few doors down, but they moved to a much bigger location when [1] metal music became mass in the mid-80’s and [2] the shop couldn’t fit customers in because too many people were crammed around the Pinball table and Track and Field arcade game that was in the front of their store. [See photo above]
But I digress …
To be honest, Rob’s Records was a shambles.
Messy … cramped … records stacked tight in big boxes and plastic bins placed literally all over the place. But it had cheap records so I’d find myself in there searching for some rare Queen albums or singles… normally after having a fried chicken lunch from the place that was a cut-price KFC in name, cleanliness and taste.
And then there was Selectadisc.
Set over 2 floors, it was the music lovers, music shop.
A dimly lit, warm cocoon that incubated you from the world outside.
In fact, it was considered an institution by record/vinyl fans all over the world thanks to its continued support for new and up and coming bands.
That said I didn’t love it … it loved The Smiths for a start … but it did have a lot of variety. It also had a great noticeboard where people could put up ads … especially for musicians for bands. We found our first singer, Rob Reid, from an ad we put up there … someone who helped give me some of the best times of my teens and who I am still in touch with to this day.
All of these places were like a wonderland to me.
I may have entered from the street, but I found myself on a different planet.
I would spend hours there on a Saturday… listening, talking, looking, reading. Occasionally even buying.
And while Rob’s Records and Selectadisc didn’t offer me the same community as WayAhead … they mattered to me. A lot.
Sadly, only Rob’s Records remain … but what caused me to write this post is because I recently saw a photo of the upstairs of Selectadisc and it stopped me in my tracks.
Not because of the memories it ignited.
Nor because of the state of it.
But because of its size.
Specifically, how small it was.
I appreciate when you’re younger you overestimate size … but this wasn’t when I was a child, I was in my teens.
And even though it wasn’t my fave record shop, I still remember it like it was a Cathedral of Sound.
Maybe it was because it was bigger than both WayAhead and Rob’s Records.
Maybe it was because it was on 2 floors where the others were just on one.
Or maybe it was because it offered me an escape from normal life to a place that was filled with sound and people who shared a similar love to it as me.
There’s never been a place like those record shops for me.
The closest was Funan Mall in Singapore – a whole building dedicated to selling electronics and gadgets.
A place where I could happily spend hours just looking at the latest new tech that had come in from China … where Jill sent me to after I’d proposed so I could calm down from the intense emotions of the morning.
But even then … even with all that … those 3 record shops in Nottingham will be where a part of my soul resides.
A place that was educational, recreational, and experiential.
Society is worse off without these places.
Yes, I know culturally they have been replaced by a bunch of other places – from the barbers shop to the chicken shop – but records shop were more than a place to hang and talk, they were a place where you grew.
So even though this photo of Selectadisc highlights how small it actually was … it’s impact on who I was remains huge.
Filed under: Attitude & Aptitude, England, Football, Nottingham, Nottingham Forest, Paul
I know with a headline like that, you think I’m going to announce some major revelation to do with health.
Or happiness.
Well, in some ways I am … just not what you may think.
This is about football … and while it’s a good few weeks since the Premiership ended, it’s taken me this long to calm down.
As you all likely know, my beloved Nottingham Forest got promoted last year to the Premiership after 23 painful years away. More than that, they got promoted after being at the bottom of the Championship after 7 games – where they only had one point – before our manager, Steve Cooper, joined and took us on a fairytale that no one could have imagined.
Of course we knew it would be hard to compete – especially with our team being made up of 5 loan signings – which is why I convinced myself that as long as they were enjoying themselves, I’d be happy with whatever happened.
Now I know I was utterly lying to myself.
It was a tremendously hard season. We had – in the end – over 30 new players join us [which was needed given we didn’t have a proper starting 11] so it was no surprise we were whipping boys for all the teams we faced in the first few weeks.
3-0. 4-0. 5-0. 6-0.
Then we had a couple of wins.
West Ham and – amazingly – Liverpool.
We had faith. And then the bad results kept coming and the media increasingly wrote us off.
Then we had major injuries to key players that were going to last for months.
Worse, we were hearing our beloved Steve Cooper – the man who had achieved what over 20+ managers couldn’t – was going to get fired. Other managers were being sounded out. The old dark days were coming back with a vengeance.
I don’t mind admitting, I couldn’t read about the team.
Everything was bleak and negative and it actually was affecting my health.
I was getting down. Weekends were getting ruined. The feel-good factor was done.
I tried to convince myself that football just doesn’t matter.
The only positive was the Forest owners kept faith with Steve.
Sure, part of it was because they couldn’t find a better alternative, but at a time where clubs chopped and changed managers like people change their clothes – it was a little bright spot in an otherwise dark situation.
That said, I wouldn’t have blamed them if they had.
Yes we had terrible injuries but we couldn’t win an away game if we bribed the officials.
Then we had a little run of positive results and it was amazing how I felt my entire body change. Mentally and physically. I felt excited to read articles about them – and how they played – again. Sure, there were still some negative stuff, but when we reached the highs of 13th in the table [even though 13th-20th was separated by a few points] it felt good.
Then bad times came back.
Losses.
In the relegation zone.
Pundits revelling in our downfall.
But somehow we put ourselves in a position to get out and with 2 games left, we were in 16th, two places above relegation. Of course, being Forest, we only needed to slip up once and have a team below us win – and we would literally swap places with them.
Worse, if any of the teams below us ended up on the same points, we’d still go down because those early games gave us a goal difference that was one of the worst in the league.
If that wasn’t hard enough, our next game was Arsenal.
2nd in the league … and the teams around us had easier games.
Sure, if we lost it wouldn’t be 100% relegation and sure, it was at home … but given our final match was away, the chances of us pulling off a miracle were low.
But against all odds, we took the lead on 19 minutes.
The Forest ground was utter pandemonium … WE WERE WINNING … but we also knew we had the worst record of losing from a winning position and Arsenal had the best record of winning from a losing position.
But we got to half time still up … which meant we would guarantee safety which meant we would still be in the Premiership for another year.
Then the second half started.
And unlike other matches, we kept doing pretty well.
The team wanted this. They wanted to play their final game at the City Ground in a way that would honour the fans unwavering support over the past 9 months.
And to be honest, so they should … because even fans of all other teams have said what an amazing atmosphere our fans create at the City Ground.
But I’d seen us fuck up too many times so with 12 minutes to go, I went on to instagram and zoomed through reels to take my mind off things. I knew the game would be over at 6:32am NZ time and my intention was to not look till my iPad said it was that time.
Did I manage to do that?
Nope … but I did manage to last a few minutes at a time.
And then at 6:31am I couldn’t hold back any longer and flicked over to the BBC where I saw the letters FT under the score, signifying full time.
Signifying we had won. WE HAD WON.
And, in a surprise to myself, I burst into tears.
Massive tears. Tears of relief, pride, happiness, shock and calm.
What made this even more surreal was that while this was all going on, I was lying in Otis’ bed as he was in ours with a bad head cold.
So there I was a 52 year old bloke … in an 8 year olds bed … crying at a football result and that’s when I truly knew how invested I was in that team.
How they represent more than just kicking a ball around a pitch, but my identity … my cities identity … our hopes, belief and values.
I was a mix of elation and exhaustion … resulting in me spending the whole day watching interviews of the footballers and fans revelling in their joy.
Joy for defying the odds.
Joy for proving the pundits wrong.
Joy for my great club earning the chance to keep getting better.
I love them. I love them so so much …
The team. The manager. The owners. The fans. The city they represent and belong to.
As the legendary Liverpool manager – Bill Shankly – once said:
Football isn’t a matter of life and death. It’s more important than that.
He wasn’t wrong.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Childhood, Colenso, Creativity, Culture, Emotion, Empathy, England, Friendship, Humanity, Jill, London, Love, Loyalty, Martin Weigel, Mercedes, New Zealand, Otis, Paul, Paula, Perspective, Planners, R/GA
So I’m back.
Did you miss me?
Nope?! Don’t blame you to be honest.
But the past 10 days have been very special for me.
There was a couple of very hard moments, but being able to be there for it, was also special.
Another reminder that while I don’t have many mates, the ones I have are top drawer.
And our presentation appears to have gone down well.
I’m so happy about that … mainly because I got to do it with Paula and Martin and I adored it.
That was a very special feeling. Something I hope we can do a hell of a lot more of, very soon.
It was also so good to catch up with so many old faces I’d not seen in years.
While I actively stay in touch with people, I’m not the most social of humans … so seeing people in the flesh [so to speak] was pretty wonderful.
As I’ve said before, COVID was good to me.
I absolutely loved staying at home with my family and having breakfast, lunch and dinner with them every single day.
Of course, I appreciate we were very privileged in our situation … but that still doesn’t take away the specialness of the times.
At least for me.
But seeing all these people I knew … and hanging out with the people I love … acted a bit like a reset to me.
A reminder of how I feed off the energy of others. That it makes me feel better and happier and hungrier to do good stuff.
To be honest, that was one of the reasons I wanted to come to Colenso.
Yes, part of it was because they are one of the great creative agencies of the times.
And yes, it meant I could finally repay Jill for her generosity in following me around the World by bringing her closer to her Mum after all these years.
But another part was that the idea of being surrounded by a talented team was so enticing.
Put simply, I love it.
I love building a gang.
I love creating our own strategy identify on how we see the world and create for it.
You see after I got made redundant from R/GA, … I was fortunate to be given work that immediately made up the salary I had lost. Better yet, I could do that without having to leave the house as the clients funding me were mainly based in China and America.
I was, as they say, sorted.
But working on your own, is hard.
Even more so when you live in a village surrounded by nothing.
And even more so when you live in a village during COVID so you can’t meet anyone even if you wanted to.
Yes, I get compared to the issues many people face, it’s nothing – but it doesn’t mean it’s not real. At least for me.
Of course I could work on my own if I needed to. The reality is I’ve always done side projects through my career, so there’s been lots of times where I’ve done just that. But moments of working on your own is very different to always working on your own … so when Colenso reached out – knowing I’ve always loved them as I almost joined them in 2016 – the idea of being a member of something was immediately appealing.
Trouble was I loved the projects I was doing … working directly with music, gaming and fashion royalty.
Basically, doing stuff I’d never done before that was incredibly exciting, challenging and creative with people who were incredibly exciting, creative and demanding.
So being a greedy bastard/only child, I asked if they’d be open to me doing both.
And they said yes.
There are many reasons for their decision – from knowing there would never be a conflict with the day-to-day work Colenso do through to knowing the timezones I’d be working in, would require my time at night, not during the day – but I am eternally grateful to them for being so open-minded and encouraging, because right now, I feel I have the best of many worlds.
To be honest that’s been a rare feeling for me.
My life seems to have either been great personally or professionally but rarely both at the same time.
And right now, I’m having that.
This is all coming across like I’m a smug-bastard and that’s the last thing I wanted to do.
It was more a reminder that if you want to do something, you should ask rather than assume and being with people – whether friends, family or colleagues – is a special thing.
Yes, I appreciate that should be obvious, but it wasn’t for me … and this past few weeks, similar to the year before … has reminded me of that.
Of course it highlights what an idiot I must be, but I’ll take that for the lesson it’s just given me.
Which is why I both understand and am confused by those who actively don’t want to work in an office again.
I get it from a balanced life or health perspective – especially if you’re spending a lot of time and money on commuting – but I don’t from the benefits of people and connections.
Of course there are a million reasons that can influence this, but while technology does allow us to be close when we’re not … physical space enables happy accidents and incidental conversations to happen which aren’t just sometimes great for the work, but also the soul.
And mine is full for now.
So thanks to all who helped remind me – and refilled me – over the past couple of weeks.
Let’s see how long it lasts before the grumpiness comes back.
Though, sadly, the long posts are definitely going to remain.