Filed under: 2024, 2025, A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, Colenso, Colleagues, Contribution, Crap Marketing Ideas From History!, Creative Development, Creativity, Culture, Death, Emotion, Empathy, Family, Fatherhood, Home, Jill, Love, Loyalty, Marketing, Martin Weigel, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, New Zealand, Nottingham Forest, Otis, Parents, Paul, Paula, Relationships, Resonance, Sport, Strategy, Sunshine
So this is it, the last post of the year.
Can’t believe it.
Looking back on 2024, I have to admit that generally it’s been a really good year for me.
+ The family are happy and healthy.
+ I’m happy and unnervingly healthy.
+ Work has been good and rewarding.
+ My team have been [generally] bloody wonderful, haha.
+ I got to travel a bunch to work with talented people on awesome projects.
+ I experienced stuff I’ve never had the chance to do before, which at my age is epic.
+ I was part of some creativity that’s right up there with some of the best stuff I’ve ever done.
+ This blog – albeit by its ‘questionable standards’ – had some pretty decent posts. Kinda.
+ I got a bunch of new tattoos and a new car – albeit one that was crashed into within a week.
+ Forest stayed in the Premiership and – so far – are doing better than the last 2 seasons.
+ And last but by no means least, the Tories got kicked out of government in the UK.
So, with that list of achievements and experiences, I can say this year, by all accounts, has been a pretty epic year for me.
Now I completely appreciate my privilege in being able to say this when so many are having such a hard time, but I can’t deny it happened … and while I’m obviously grateful for it, I also know it is as much down to luck than any so-called ability I may or may not have.
That said – and in no way am I trying to suggest this ‘balances things out’ – there’s been a few things that have been very challenging for me and my family to deal with this year. Not just in terms of the shit the World is going through right now … but things much closer to home.
The loss of our dear Rosie after 17 amazing years, the break-up of my best friend’s marriage after almost 20 and the horrible, premature death of a dear client placed a huge toll on us/me emotionally and professionally.
And while we know ‘life goes on’, that doesn’t mean they don’t leave scars … scars that I/we are still experiencing and dealing with today.
Each of these tragic events had a very destabilizing effect on me/us … amplified by the fact that in the case of Rosie and Paul/Shelly especially, they were long-term ‘stability pillars’ for us and now they are irrevocably fractured.
I should explain what I mean by ‘stability pillars’ …
Put simply, they were entities we could rely on – or lean on – through good times and bad.
An emotional life-raft, as it were … and given we have chosen to live so far away from so many of the people and places we feel most connected to, it meant we probably had an over-reliance on their involvement in our life.
An over-reliance that we may have taken too much for granted. Thinking it will never change or go away. Naïve maybe.
Now don’t get me wrong, we have friends in NZ and enjoy living here, but it’s different … partly because we’re not from here, partly because we’re still relatively new here and partly because we know we won’t be here forever.
Of course, I get that’s ultimately our choice and decision, but the point is for all the positive things that have happened to us and for us this year – and there’s more than we could have hoped for or maybe even deserve, at least in my case – the impact of those 3 important relationships, have left an indelible mark on the year for us.
Which leads to why this holiday season is so important for me … for us … and most likely for the people involved and affected by the events that have happened.
I cannot tell you how much I’m looking forward to it. Not just because it’s a break, but because it’s a chance to unite, gather, refresh, restore and replenish.
I absolutely get others deserve – and most likely need – it more, but it still is very important and valuable to us too.
Fortunately, not only will we be getting it, but by living in NZ – which, as I wrote here, is the best place in the World to have it – it means we will have the space to truly embrace it and I’ve never been so grateful for it.
Talking of grateful …
This year was only possible because of the people around me.
From my family and friends, through to my colleagues and [some] of my clients, haha.
But it would be remiss of me not to acknowledge the people who read my rubbish on here.
And while I no longer allow comments, I know there’s still a bunch of people out there who do thanks to the data, the emails or the sarcastic texts. [Hello Andy!]
I’ve been writing this for almost 2 decades and in many ways, it has forged the glue of connection that has made our constant moving around the World a bit easier.
A way to never feel too alone. Too isolated. Too new.
That may sound dramatic, but it’s true.
Which is why I want to offer my thanks to each and every one of you for all you have done for me – even if it’s just occasionally read what I write.
I’m grateful for your interest and commentary and hope the holidays will be as good to you, as I hope 2025 is good for all of us.
Just with mine being a little bit better than yours … hey, I’m an only-child, so what do you expect? Haha.
In all honesty, I have some specific plans/hopes for next year. Plans/hopes that could give me a different perspective and experience in my – and my families – life. Whether that happens is anyone’s guess, but I’m quite excited to see if I can pull it off. See what we may discover and experience if it happens, both individually and as a family.
But before that can even happen, it’s time to rest …
So with that, I say ta-ra.
See you on the other side.
For year 19, starting Jan 13, 2025.
Happy holidays everyone. Wherever you are. Whatever you celebrate.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Canada, China, Colleagues, Context, Culture, Empathy, Friendship, Happiness, Jill, Otis, Paul, Relationships, Relevance, Respect, Travel
I’ve written a lot over the years about the gift of living overseas.
I’ve talked about how I totally understand why people worry about what they’ll miss … but they should also think about what they’ll gain.
I’ve highlighted how I owe everything in my life – bar my relationship with Paul – to me living and working overseas.
Everything.
My wife.
My son.
My cat.
My career.
My whole life.
I don’t say that lightly … and I don’t ignore the fact I’ve also faced things I’ve missed and miss … but overall, it’s an amazing gift the World has given me.
Recently I was given another reminder of how wonderful it is.
I was in Edmonton, in Northern Canada.
It’s the most northern city in the World with a population of 1 million.
I’d never been there before. I’d never even heard of it before. But there I was … in a wonderful restaurant called Ridge Rd, with some clients … when I received this:
It’s a message from someone I knew in China. Someone I last spoke to probably 10+ years ago. But here I was, in a city I’d never been to – far from pretty much every other city I’d been – having an old friend say they were there too. I can’t tell you how lovely that was. How wonderful that an isolated city had brought me closer to someone from my past.
Now you may think that’s kinda-crazy, and I guess it is … but it’s happened before.
It happened when I took my Mum to the North Pole to see the Northern Lights.
It happened when I was in a small town in Brazil.
It happened when I was in Russia.
It happened when I was in Finland.
It has happened a lot because I’ve lived in a lot of countries … and every single time, it’s made me feel incredibly fortunate for the experiences, places and people it has brought into my life.
I get it’s a privilege and I don’t take that for granted.
But that privilege is far more than simply being able to live in different countries or earn different amounts of money – if you’re lucky. It’s about the ability to connect to different people, cultures and contexts. Their backgrounds, their viewpoints, their ambitions, their fears, their issues, their opportunities, their hopes, their references, their perspectives … that’s what the privilege is really about.
It makes you a bigger and better person for it.
Not just in terms of your own knowledge, but your own place in the world.
Which is why, when I got that random SMS from someone I knew in China while sat in a small restaurant in a small city in Northern Canada, I was so happy. Because that could only happen because I said ‘yes’ to opportunities when arguably, it would have been easier to say no.
I get it’s hard. I get not everyone has that chance.
But if you do, grab it. Because nothing lets you feel you’re living life than hearing from people you would have otherwise never met in places you never imagined you would ever go.
Filed under: Attitude & Aptitude, Dad, Emotion, Family, Fatherhood, Love, My Childhood, Paul
A few weeks ago, I wrote a post about my Dad on what would have been his 86th birthday.
Paul – my best – saw it and wrote this to me:
“I know a boy who’s 10 feet tall, sleeps in the kitchen with his head in the hall”.
Now you may think, reading that, Paul has lost his marbles – and I get why – but what Paul had actually done was give me a gift.
You see that silly, little poem was something my Dad used to say all the time.
ALL. THE. TIME.
And yet despite this, I’d forgotten it.
I don’t know why.
I don’t know how.
But I had … and that’s why when I heard it again, it felt like I was running into his arms again.
Getting a big hug. A squeeze. A massive kiss on my ‘bonce’, as he would say.
Dad was forever coming up with these little silly rhymes, poems and songs.
Another I remember was his ‘ghost story’.
I can’t remember it exactly, but it went something like this:
The moon is a ghostly galleon.
Tossed upon stormy seas.
He knocked upon the door a second time.
“Is anyone there?” he said.
But all was still and silent, for everyone was dead’.
I have no idea where it came from … or why … but rather than be scared shitless by it, we used to say it all the time. Especially around Halloween.
It became a special, private poem that connected and united us in the most daft of ways.
Now I admit it’s not that long ago that I’d be devastated that these things – fundamental moments of my childhood – had escaped my memory.
But now I’m good with it … because not only do I get to experience them all over again – where they flood my mind with wonderful feelings and memories – but I get to discover the impact they had on others.
Which is why I’m so grateful to Paul – and my cousin Neil – for being so impacted by some of the things my Dad did, even though they were a byproduct of who he was.
Dad was a brilliant man.
Kind, compassionate, loving, smart and silly.
He cared … he was interested, and he was interesting.
Death is obviously utterly, fucking shit … but it’s funny how those little interactions you could write off as a childish or silly quirk of a meaningful relationship end up being some of the things you emotionally connect to the most.
The incidental things that you discover have become everything.
And while I never actually knew a boy who was 10 feet tall and slept in the kitchen with his head in the hall … I am so grateful he existed in my Dads head.
Who now lives in my heart.
Filed under: Birthday, Childhood, Friendship, Love, Loyalty, Mum & Dad, Nottingham, Paul
So today is the last post of the week.
A weird week – at least in terms of this blog – in so much that there’s been posts about love, gratitude, distain and judgement.
And while I could end the week with a post celebrating Jill’s birthday – which is tomorrow – fact is she hates being the focus of attention, especially on this blog, plus I basically wrote something for her on Monday. Haha.
Which means there is only one subject matter that I can write about today and that’s for Paul – who also turns 54 this Sunday.
As people who know me or have followed this blog for a while, you’ll know Paul is my oldest dearest friend.
He was born 4 days after me and we have been in each-others lives ever since.
Hell, given Mum and Dad have both passed away, he has known me longer than any other person on this planet.
Put simply, I love him … and yet, this past year has been the hardest for our relationship.
I’m not going to go into the details why except to say that sometimes life throws curveballs that are hard to comprehend, accept or deal with … but I don’t mind saying it has been incredibly challenging for both of us, even though the reasons behind it may be slightly different.
What I can say is no one wants or wanted to hurt each other.
Both people – I believe/hope – still care deeply for each other.
But shit happens and the result is we probably have both ended up hurting each other even though that would never be either of our intentions.
If truth be told, I might be the one who has made it worse because I have to admit I have found the situation particularly difficult to move past. There’s a whole host of reasons for that – but what has made it worse is the fact I now live on the other side of the planet, so it’s been much more difficult to find the time to spend the time together.
But what’s added to it is that we’ve never been in this situation before and I didn’t know how to handle it.
Sure we’ve had our highs and lows, ups and downs over the 5 decades we’ve been in each others lives … we even once had a falling out for a month or so around the time we were 15 … but this has been much more challenging.
Maybe it is down to our ages.
Maybe it is down to our geographies.
Maybe it is down to the implications of what happened.
Maybe it’s all of these things and more, but the result is I have been deeply affected by it and it has had a truly adverse effect on my health and wellbeing.
What is positive is we have spoken very openly and plainly about the situation. In many ways, it has been one of the most in-depth conversations we’ve ever had in our lives. However I can sense that if we don’t put in the effort to move past it and properly reconnect … it could manifest into a parting of the ways. Not in terms of us no longer being friends, but in terms of us no longer being an active part of eachothers lives.
In the movie Bend It Like Beckham, there’s a scene where the father – who had been against his daughter playing football – finally tells her he is OK with her passion. Happy even. Not just because she has convinced him of her true love of the game, but because he has realized being angry at her would be like cutting his nose to spite his face.
I should point out I was not angry at Paul. Disappointed maybe, but not angry.
But I have also realized there’s absolutely no benefit to me continuing to feel this way.
It solves nothing.
I know he didn’t want to hurt anyone.
I know he knows he wishes he had handled things better.
And I know I have 54 years of history with this person that doesn’t just encompasses my whole life, but is my life.
Why would I do that? Why would I walk away from someone I love … someone who so much of my life has been shared with … someone who – on top of everything else – is the very last connection I have to where I am from and the history of who I once was?
Why the fuck would I want to do that?
How stupid would I be to choose to do that?
The reality is Paul and I have gone through so much together … love, loss, good days and bad. We’ve weathered every storm because at the end of the day, we had each others backs and we knew we loved each other. Hell, even living away from England for quarter of a century didn’t affect us. It’s a bond that is in many ways, deeper than blood.
I miss my friend.
I miss who he is, what we are and what we have.
My life is lesser for him not being so in it and I want to change it.
And it starts with this post.
Now I appreciate Paul may never read it – he never reads this blog – but on this occasion I hope he does. Because I want to tell him I love him and miss him. That I’m happy he’s in a good place. That I want to be there for him and I want him to be there for me. That my life needs him in it. I want to talk stupid shit with him and tell him to stop seeing Forest because they always lose when he goes. I want to hear how the Frothy Coffee Man is going. I want to tell him he’s a beautiful idiot, but he’s my beautiful idiot. I want to tell him that I don’t want to grow older without him being there by my side. Literally or metaphorically. Or both. Spouting nonsense or being sentimental about the stupid shit we did and will no doubt do in the future.
I know things are different and will be different … but that doesn’t mean we have to be different and so while it’s not the sort of gift he can hang on a wall or put on a shelf, I hope he sees this as my gift to him. A gift of love and hope … that we can get back to being who we have been for the past 54 years.
So to you Paul, I want to say this.
I love you.
I’m sorry I didn’t support you as I am sure you hoped I would.
I’m sorry I found it hard to get past certain aspects of the situation.
I’m sorry if I pushed you to do something you didn’t want to do.
I’m sorry I’ve been communicating via text rather than calls.
I know you didn’t intend to hurt me or anyone else for that matter.
I know you’re a good person.
I’m happy that you’re happy.
I hope this makes a difference.
I hope you have the happiest of birthdays.
I miss you with all I’ve got and hope we talk and see each other very soon.
And very often.
Even if it means you pelt me with more snowballs.
Big love and hugs my dearest friend.
Rx
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Birthday, Jill, Love, Paul
So this week is a week of important birthdays for me.
Mine.
Jill’s.
Paul’s.
However the good news for you, is that only my birthday falls on a day I write a post … so you will only have to endure one over-written post rather than the 3. Or as the old saying goes, ‘it’s my birthday, but you get the present’.
God … what a tragic start to this post.
Anyway … while I will leave you to spend the rest of the day desperately trying to get your huge gift to me in NZ in time, I will leave you with a post about love.
Not mine.
Not about someone I know.
But the sort of love that I think embodies what love is supposed to be about.
It’s about actors Jason Watkins and Clara Francis.
You might not know them – or you may only know them from some of the roles they’ve had – but recently they were in The Guardian Newspaper talking about their relationship … their families … love, loss and the pain of broken hearts and enduring relationships.
Put simply, it was one of the most beautiful expressions of compassion, love and consideration I’ve ever read.
Ever. Read.
Not just towards each other, but also towards their family, Jason’s ex-wife and the daughter they lost through sepsis.
You are left in no doubt they are incredible people and an incredible family.
One bonded tightly together … appreciating who each other is, what each other brings [and needs] and how each person works.
It’s a beautiful, chaotic, engaged and alive type-of-love … one where you’re left in no doubt why it works and why they have been able to continue when the loss of a child often results in the breakdown of many relationships.
In essence it’s a celebration of humanity … and I include Jason’s ex-wife in this, because in their darkest hour, she rented a flat near them so she could support them. If that sounds strange, bizarrely, once you’ve read the article, it all seems to make perfect sense.
There’s so many parts I love.
How Jason describes Clara’s family.
How Clara would ‘accidentally-on-purpose’ bump into Jason at the supermarket.
The way they would always keep an ear out for how the other was doing, even when life had moved on.
But it’s the way Jason talks about Clara that really gets me. Especially the last part of his last paragraph where he says:
“Clara illuminates any room. Every year, her light becomes brighter.”
I’ve written before how Jill doesn’t like being the centre of attention – even as a blog post, hence there is no accompanying photo of her even though I would love to – but the way Jason talks about Clara is how I feel about Jill.
But it’s more than a light for me, it’s warmth.
A feeling of where I belong.
Where I am needed and wanted.
Where I need and want to be.
He says so much more than that and I loved and hated every word because it’s just so bloody perfect.
I often struggle to find the words to express what Jill means to me. What she has done for me. But he has done it.
And while it is about Clara, it is also perfect about Jill. Except I can’t say it to her because they’re his words, not mine.
So I hope one day she reads this.
She won’t be happy I’ve made this about her, but I hope she’ll see past that to feel the words.
Of course, I hope she also knows this through my actions, but it’s nice for my heart to feel able to properly speak.
We’ve been together 20 years now.
We’ve gone through a lot.
And while there has been times I’ve sadly let her down, she’s never done the same to me.
Through thick and thin, she’s been a rock.
A kind, compassionate, super-supportive, super-strength, super-human.
Whatever the future holds, it’s brighter for having her in it with me … which is surely the greatest gift anyone could ever have?
So to my darling Jill.
Thank you for everything you are.
I love your strength, your smarts, your bravery and your love.
I hope you have a beautiful birthday on the 15th and I’ll be doing everything I can to make it that way.
Big hugs and kisses to you my love and big thanks to Jason [and Clara] for the words my heart wanted to speak, but didn’t know how to say.
You can read the rest of them … and the story that affected me so much, here.