Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Childhood, Comment, Corona Virus, Daddyhood, Emotion, Empathy, Family, Fatherhood, Jill, London, Love, Otis
I found this photo recently.
It’s a few years old, when we lived in London … but there’s something about it that just warms my heart.
Not just because it features my son – though that helps – but because it in a period of pandemic chaos, it shows how love can make everything OK.
Covid had just taken hold.
We were all confined to home.
No one was offering any clarity.
People were dying at unprecedented numbers.
And Otis desperately needed his hair washing.
However …
… he was also playing a video game he absolutely didn’t want to stop playing so – because his world had been turned completely upside down – his wonderful, kind, considerate Mum found a way for him to keep playing while she could do some hair washing.
Obviously it is an utterly ridiculous way to do things, but it’s my ridiculous.
A moment of twisted normality at a time where nothing felt normal whatsoever.
And while I appreciate this is an utterly indulgent photograph, I love the way he seems oblivious to his surroundings. His little legs stretched out to the tip of his toes. And a kitchen that has been rapidly turned into a school, a playroom and a hairdressers all at the same time.
While we were painfully aware of the privileged position we were in – from having an income to having a teeny garden to escape in – the fear of COVID was starting to take a hold which is why, as I look at that photo today, I realise how much my ridiculously beautifully family let me feel we were strong together at a point where everything was feeling like it was falling apart.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Agency Culture, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, Colenso, Comment, Confidence, Creativity, Culture, Dad, England, Family, Fatherhood, Friendship, Goodbye England, Home, Jill, London, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Fatherhood, New Zealand, Otis, Paul, Perspective, Planning, R/GA, Shelly
So even though we are not leaving for NZ for a month, this is my last post for at least a month.
Moving countries always requires a bunch of things to be done, and despite us being old hands at it, doing it during a pandemic means we have a bunch more stuff to do – hence the blog post rest.
Being back in England has been a special time.
Part of it is because I never thought I would have lived here again.
Part of it is because I have been able to catch up with old friends once more.
Part of it is because I love big cities and always wanted to live in London.
Part of it is because despite its bullshit, it’s still my home and I’ve loved being in a place where so much of it just felt natural.
And part of it is because of the new friends I have met along the way.
To think I didn’t know people like Tanter, Nils, the beautifully irresponsible – in the most responsible way – Mike and Sam, the entire planning gang at R/GA [though Lachlan did remind me when I started that we had once met in Australia … when he was a student, hahahaha], Michael Roberts, Ben Major, Tarik at Onroad, Sam Clohesy, Ian Preston, Trudie, the inspirational [whether he accepts that or not] Murray Calder, Keerti, Munraj, Larissa Vince – who is a better Nottingham Forest than I could ever be, John, Nana at POCC, Asheru, Louise Jack, Eduardo, Sara Tate, Holly Day, Ally and everyone at Brixton Finishing School, Dorcas, Abi, the incredible Kay Adekunle Rufai from the S-M-I-L-E-ing Boys project, Nick Hirst, Tom Roach and countless other people from work or – shock, horror – Twitter [including one of my ad-icons, Trevor Beattie] … is astounding.
And while I am thrilled to be going to New Zealand for our next adventure, leaving England is much harder than I thought it would.
Without doubt, a big part of that is because as much as I’ve been away, it still feels like home.
Not just because we bought our beautiful house here, but because my beloved Paul and Shelly are here.
And while the pandemic meant we didn’t see each other as much as we would have liked, it’s more than I’d had in quarter of a century and I will treasure that as much as I treasure the fact Paul and I are still as stupid together, as we were when we were kids.
England is where I was raised.
And while I have sold the family home to buy our new family home … it doesn’t take away from the fact, so many of the things that made me who I am, were made here.
Of course I wish my Mum and Dad were still alive.
How I would have loved to have made them happy to be ‘home again’.
How I would have loved to have spent so much time chatting and remembering together.
But maybe it they were still alive we wouldn’t have gone to NZ and so it appears they are still encouraging me to explore, even without them here anymore.
Though I would happily swap it all for another day together, even though I am also happy they have not had to endure the hardship that COVID has placed on the country. I can’t imagine what it would be like for them to have to deal with it and I have nothing but admiration for any person trying to manage/balance that situation with their own family.
But we’re off … and frankly, the idea of going to New Zealand feels like one of the greatest gift in the World.
That we will soon be in a country where WE CAN GO OUT TO DINNER IN A RESTAURANT seems almost impossible.
That we will soon be in a country where Otis CAN PLAY OUTSIDE WITH HIS [NEW] FRIENDS WHENEVER HE WANTS is a dream.
That we will soon be able to go visit Jill’s Mum IN A MATTER OF HOURS is madness, given it’s been 17 years since she could do that.
And that I get to do this while working at one of my favourite companies in the World – the brilliant Colenso – is, frankly, insane.
I’m so excited for the adventures we’ll have.
The experiences we will discover and learn from.
Not to mention the work I will able to be a part of creating.
That said, I cannot thank all the brilliant people who have made my return to England so special, enough.
I will miss so much about here, but the memories will also last me through till our return.
And we will be back.
Don’t know where. Don’t know when.
But – not wishing to make it sound like a threat – I know we’ll meet again, some sunny day.
Take care of yourselves. Thank you for everything.
See you on the other side. Literally and metaphorically.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Colenso, Comment, Culture, Daddyhood, Emotion, England, Family, Fatherhood, Goodbye England, Home, Jill, Love, My Fatherhood, New Zealand, Otis, Parents, Paul, Shelly
So today is the 1st Feb.
That means today is the first day of our final month living in England.
Or at least living in England for a period of time.
We will be back for a whole host of reasons, we just don’t know when.
And while I’ll be writing another long, drawn out post listing all the things I’ll miss and all the things I’m grateful for … the reality is there’s a chance COVID will fuck our plans and instead of boarding a plane to New Zealand on the 3rd March, we’ll be in our beautiful home, trying to work out how to get our furniture off a boat and our cat out of quarantine.
It’s a strange feeling to think you have a time limit on what you have come to consider ‘home’.
A mixture of fear and excitement.
Of course we have done it a ton of times – and we’re really thrilled to be off on another adventure – but there’s a bunch of things that have got their teeth into us.
Being near Paul and Shelly after 25 years is a huge one.
Our beautiful new home with our beautiful garden is another.
Not to mention the wonderful new friends we’ve made in the time we’ve been back.
But as I say to many people who ask me about moving overseas, while it is easy to focus on the things you’ll miss, you need to focus on the things you’ll gain.
And we can’t wait for that.
The things we know, the things we hope for and the things that will just crash into our life.
I owe so much of my life to having lived around the World and I’m very excited to discover what new chapters this adventure will write.
So as this is a month where a lot will be going on, this blog will end on Friday till we are either in NZ or being told we have to wait longer to get into NZ.
Though whatever is the outcome, while not hearing my rubbish on here for a few weeks sounds like a delight, let me remind you – when I’m in quarantine in NZ with literally nothing to do, there’s a good chance I may be writing 100 blog posts a day.
So be careful what you wish for.
Filed under: Attitude & Aptitude, Dad, Daddyhood, Emotion, Empathy, Family, Mum, Mum & Dad, Otis, Parents
So if this blog being back wasn’t bad enough for you.
I’m ending the first week of posts with something sad.
At least for me.
You see, tomorrow will be the 22nd anniversary of my Dad passing away.
Over the years, I’ve used this anniversary to write both good and sad memories about dad.
From his last days to reminiscing about some of my favourite ones.
Recalling moments burned in my heart and mind.
Some big, some so small … it could easily have got lost in a corner.
Except to me, they are everything.
Despite him being gone 22 years, I still feel an urge to make him – and Mum – proud.
I am pretty sure they would be anyway – despite the odd ‘episode’, which only Dad ever knew about – but it still is a driving force within me.
But here’s the thing, he – and Mum – never put any pressure on me regarding what job I should do. None at all.
Of course they wanted me to do well, but it was about my life, not theirs.
OK, so they would have loved me to follow in the families footsteps of law, but while I adored the idea, I just couldn’t stand the idea of ending one period of education and then heading straight into another.
Hell, even when I told them I didn’t want to go to university, they backed me.
Of course they wanted to know why.
They also wanted me to apply just in case I changed my mind.
But they never guilt-tripped me into doing something I wasn’t interested in.
That doesn’t mean they were passively interested in what I did.
Nor does it mean they were going to pay for my life while I worked it out. [We all knew there simply wasn’t the cash for that, even if they wanted to]
It’s just their focus was ensuring I never settled.
I don’t mean that in terms of being arrogant or picky.
I mean it in terms of them viewing contentment as a terrible waste of a life.
What they wanted for me more than anything was to feel fulfilled.
That whatever I did made me feel better because of it.
Not because of what it enabled me to do, but because of what it was, how I did it and how it made me feel.
I don’t know if I really appreciated how huge that was until much later.
To give me the time, space and backing to work things out on my own.
Of course they were there for questions, worries, challenges and failures … but they were steadfast in wanting this to be about what I wanted for my life, not what they wanted for it.
Because at the end of the day, all they really cared about was me being happy.
Of course they knew there would be bad days … challenging days … days where I would want to give everything up. But they trusted me – and the lessons they’d taught me in terms of how to deal with life – to be able to work it out and keep moving forward.
It’s possibly the most wonderful, generous gift anyone could give their child.
It’s behind most of the things I’ve done in my life … from where I’ve worked, where I’ve lived and what I’ve done.
It’s also – contrary to popular belief – why I work bloody hard.
Because apart from the fact I deeply enjoy what I do [most of the time], it’s my way of repaying the faith my parents showed in me.
Showing them it wasn’t wasted or lost on me.
I’ll forever be grateful to them for it.
And hopefully so will Otis.
So thank you Dad. I miss you. I wish you were here for us to chat about the adventures.
Give Mum a kiss for me while holding her hand.
Rx
Filed under: Australia, Birthday, China, Comment, Emotion, Empathy, Family, Fatherhood, Hong Kong, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Fatherhood, New Zealand, Otis, Singapore
Today would be my Mum’s 89th birthday.
EIGHTY NINE.
My god, that would have been something to celebrate.
I sometimes wonder if we’d have come to NZ if my Mum was still alive.
There’s a chance we would, but it would have been much harder to go, especially with COVID.
I just don’t know how I’d have been able to leave, given all she would have had to deal with in the last 18 months.
There were days – when we were in the UK – where I found myself being relieved she wasn’t here to experience the horror of COVID.
That’s incredibly hard for me to admit, but the idea of my dear Mum being on own and suffering ill health, without me – or anyone – being able to be near to protect, reassure or support her for over a year, literally ignites my anxiety.
Of course, millions of people had to go through just that, which is why I have nothing but admiration and compassion for all they went through. To not be able to see your family is unbelievably painful. To worry that if you do, you may kill them, is a burden that no one should have to deal with.
But if we were here in NZ … and if Mum was still alive … then today would be a day where not being with her would be one of the most painful of them all.
It certainly wouldn’t be for lack of trying, but the reality is if I did find a way to get back to the UK, then there would be no guarantee of when NZ would let me back in the country due to the quarantine situation.
I would feel torn in two.
And I know this because it almost happened in 2014.
Mum was going to have a major heart operation at around the same time Otis was due.
As in literally, a cross-over of time.
The idea I would have to decide whether to be at my son’s birth in China or be at my Mum’s side in England was something I was genuinely terrified of.
Fortunately, I found myself in England about 5 months before Mum’s operation and accompanied her to a meeting with her surgeon.
There she explaining the situation to him to which he said he felt Mum could wait another 3 or 4 months for the operation so she could be in ‘tip-top form’ to meet her grandson.
I am so grateful to him.
Not just for removing an obstacle that no one should have to deal with, but because it gave me 4 more months with my Mum – months that she got to see her grandson via Facetime – because sadly, she died of complications when she ended up having the op.
And as sad as that is, I smile at the thought of being with her today.
Not only can I imagine how it would go, I can even hear her voice.
She’d be saying how she can’t believe she’s 89.
She’d gently brush off my excited, “and next year you hit the big 90”, with a calm explanation that, “you never know what may happen in the future”.
My god I miss her voice.
Her kind, compassionate, warm, curious voice.
How I would love to hear her asking questions about Otis, Jill and Rosie the cat.
I remember the times I flew home to surprise her from Australia or Singapore or HK or China.
I’d knock on the door and then I’d hear her walking towards it – asking “who is it?” before she saw me.
She would look for a second in shock. Amazed her son … her beloved only child … was standing in front of her.
And she would say, “Oh Robert” before giving me a huge hug and then telling she was so surprised and happy.
Then before I knew it, she’d be asking if I’d eaten and say she had to make the bed up for me as there’s no sheets on it … hahaha.
Oh Mum, I wish I could be with you to celebrate.
I wish that day in March 2015 had turned out so differently.
But as I wrote over that week, at least everything had reached some beautiful finale … though you never got to see the new heating Angelo had put in for you, ha.
Mind you, with energy prices so high in the UK at the moment, you’d likely say, “I’ll just put on an extra jumper”.
Oh how I miss you Mum.
You were the best.
I hope Dad is looking after you.
Thank you for everything and happy, happy birthday.
The countdown to 90 now begins.
Love you.
Rx