Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Agency Culture, America, Anniversary, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, Comment, Creativity, Culture, Cynic, Dad, Daddyhood, Deutsch, Differentiation, Emotion, Empathy, End of Year, England, Family, Fatherhood, Friendship, Goodbye America, Goodbye China, Grand announcements, Happiness, Hello America, Holiday, Home, Innocence, Insight, Jill, LaLaLand, London, Love, Martin Weigel, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Fatherhood, Otis, Parents, Paul, Planners, Planning, R/GA, Relationships, Rosie, Sentimentality, WeigelCampbell, Wieden+Kennedy
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So this is the final post of the year.
It’s been a big year for me and the family.
Then again, it was a big year for the family last year too.
However, whereas 2017 saw us leave Shanghai and Wieden+Kennedy – something that was truly emotional for all of us – 2018 has seen us go from sunny LA, working at Deutsch, living in a house by the beach and driving a custom made Audi to being citizens of cold and rainy London, living in a much smaller house in Fulham, working at R/GA [with some sprinkles of Metallica madness in-between] and traveling by tube to and from everywhere.
And we haven’t been this happy in ages.
Don’t get me wrong, there are things we definitely miss from our life in the US – people, the weather, Otis’ school, free soda refills and bacon mainly – but this move was right for us for a whole host of reasons, personal and professional, and we enter 2019 with the full expectation we’ll still be here when 2020 comes around.
I hope.
It’s funny, when I read the final post I wrote for last year, it is apparent that change was in our minds. We didn’t think that openly, but it seems it was there.
Of course, moving to a country and then leaving in just over a year is not the best thing.
It’s financial stupidity for one.
But these things happen and we are very happy for the amazing experience, though I must admit I’m even happier my wife, son and cat are still talking to me.
Fools.
But while our environment has changed, some things have stayed exactly the same.
Your ability to trash everything I write on here, for one.
And to you all, I say a huge thank you.
Sure, being told I’m a bad dressing, musically ignorant, gadget tosser every-single-day can get a bit tiring, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Because amongst the insults, there’s often pearls of gold in there.
Stuff that makes me think about things a different way.
Stuff that influences how I think about things I never thought about.
Stuff that just keeps me on my toes and interested about stuff.
And I love it.
I love that people come here and share a bit of their time and opinion with me.
Yes, I appreciate moving to the UK and still posting at 6am is screwing up the flow of the comments given the East Coast of America is asleep and can’t insult/join-in until much later … but the fact so many people still write makes me feel very fortunate.
While I have loved the ability to move countries and cultures so many times – and hope to continue doing it, just not for a bit – the reality is that is makes your friendship network difficult.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m very fortunate we have technology to keep me in touch with the wonderful people I’ve met in every country we’ve lived [whether they like it or not] and this year I got to catch up with people I’ve not seen in years – from Freddie to Paula – but there is something about having a level of constancy that makes you feel settled.
Bizarrely, this blog has provided me with a bit of that.
Even with people I have still yet to meet.
[Though I met Marcus and Neil Perkin this year and that made me so happy]
While I would never suggest I am your friend, you have been to me – in many ways and at many times, both at moments of darkness and happiness – and I want to take this opportunity to say thank you.
To all of you.
Even you Andy.
When I started this blog way back in May 2006, I never expected anyone to read it, let alone comment so the fact some of you still are – regardless that many Police officers would call it abuse – I’m grateful.
I’m excited about next year.
It will be big.
Not because we’ll be moving … or I’ll changing job … but new things will be entering my life.
From my beloved Otis starting proper school – which literally is screwing with my head – to the much-talked-about-but-not-much-actually-done Weigel/Campbell officially doing its thing in addition to the exciting adventures and exploits my wonderfully beautiful family, my bloody amazing friends and fantastic new planning team will get up to that will make me feel even luckier than I do already.
Being back in England has had a much bigger effect on me than I ever imagined it would.
I am grateful for it.
I am grateful for all I have.
I hope this holiday season and 2019 is one that is wonderful for you all too.
See you in a few weeks. [Yeah, don’t think you get so lucky to not have me come back]
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Agency Culture, America, Anniversary, Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Creativity, Culture, Daddyhood, Din Tai Fung, Friendship, Happiness, Home, Jill, London, My Fatherhood, Otis, Paul, Queen, R/GA, Relationships, Shelly
So here we are, the last month of 2018, and what a year it has been for me.
Started out in the sunny life that is Los Angeles and end it in the rainy life that is London.
From Deutsch to R/GA.
From Audi’s to the Tube.
From LA Din Tai Fung to the new London Din Tai Fung.
[Let’s be honest, I’d never of come if they weren’t here]
But I’m happy – very happy.
Sure, there’s a bunch of things I miss, but apart from the fact many of them will remain in my life for ever, the rest I can look back on as experiences I am fortunate to have had so I’m grateful I got to have them rather than sad I’ve lost them.
I know, who am I?
But all that is for a an even more boring post sometime in the next few weeks, so I’ll end this far-too-positive post with one of my new favorite songs, ‘Love Can Only Heal’, by Altered Bridge and the Slash band, Myles Kennedy.
I know you will think it’s bollocks – but apart from the fact that means you’re all a bunch of musical heathens who can’t appreciate the brilliance of a melancholy melody that’s orchestrated with a slowly building pulse of drama – you’re forgetting the alternative would be suggesting you listen to Queen.
Suddenly not so bad it is?
And it gets better … because for reasons that make no sense whatsoever, I’m going to be on my way to the US again by the time you read this. Which means you’re free from my blog rubbish till Thursday and given the following week is the final week of blog posts from me for 2018, you are exactly 7 posts away from ending the year on a positive.
If that doesn’t make you enjoy today, then nothing will.
Happy Monday.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Anniversary, Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Confidence, Culture, Death, Emotion, Empathy, England, Happiness, Health, History, Insight, NHS, Otis, Parents, Paul, Social Divide
The NHS is 70 years old this year.
While that is a remarkable age, it blows my mind there was a time when it didn’t exist.
The story of its foundation is a remarkable one … one filled with foresight, fight and a governments desire to raise the standards, dreams and potential of an entire nation.
Whether we will ever see something of such audacious good from a government anywhere in the World is debatable.
Obamacare may have come close, but thanks to America’s blinkered fear of socialism [despite having one FBI for example], it means its potential has been destroyed by that criminal, also known as The President of the United States of America.
And all the Republican sheep.
But back to the NHS.
Despite having not lived in England for 24+ years, it’s been a quiet partner throughout my life.
Helping me deal with some of the best and worst times of my life.
And even though there was a time I grew to despise walking along the corridors of the QMC hospital in Nottingham, I was always grateful for it … because it ensured the people I loved weren’t allowed to fall through the cracks at their greatest hour of need.
The NHS has saved my parents life, saved my sight, looked after my dear Paul when he’s undertaken acts of complete stupidity, taken care of my son when he came down with an illness [despite not yet having a British passport] and ensured my parents were given dignity in their final days … it is the single most important and valuable institution the UK has.
I’ve been incredibly fortunate to have lived all around the World and while there have been a number of occasions where I have needed the urgent and serious attention of Nurses and Doctors, I’ve paid heavily for that service.
Of course I’m grateful for all they did for me – they were excellent – but I was also in a privileged position where I could afford to pay for it which is why the NHS is so important because the reality is, everyone deserves the right to being looked after, not just those with a healthy bank balance.
Countless UK governments have tried to undermine or strip away the NHS … seemingly ignorant to the fact it’s one of the few things that is the envy of the World and should be treasured, not pillaged.
So to everyone who has ever worked for or fought for the NHS, thank you.
You deserve so much more than just a nations gratitude.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, America, Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Culture, Daddyhood, Family, Goodbye America, Jill, Paul, Sentimentality
For all the shit America is going through and – let’s not forget – creating for itself, it’s still a pretty awesome country.
The warmth we have receieved from people has been amazing.
Kindness. Consideration. Welcoming.
To be honest, it’s more than we’ve experienced in any of the other countries we’ve lived in – at least in terms of the speed we got it – and so once I got over my initial skepticism, I really started to embrace it.
Of course there’s some things I’ll never get used to.
Not using a ‘u’ in so many of their words.
Calling it soccer instead of football.
Actually using the word “Y’all”.
High-Fiving.
But in most cases I’ve been able to get past it mainly because I’ve chosen to ignore it.
A big part of my ability to do that has been due to the amazing lifestyle LA has given my family.
I have to say, living near the beach, with almost daily sun and cleanish air is an amazing thing to have.
It’s probably as close to paradise as you can get.
However there is one thing I can’t deal with.
One thing I cannot ignore.
That’s right, it’s Otis developing an American accent.
Worse, a Californian accent.
Saying “Mom” will never be acceptable.
Ending the alphabet with “zee” can never be tolerated.
Which is why at the end of August I’ll be leaving Deutsch and on the 5th September, we will be leaving America to go and start a new life in London.
No, that is not a joke.
OK, blaming it on Otis’ American twang is, but the reality of our impending move is not.
It’s definitely not been an easy decision …
The thought of taking my family away from paradise so soon after we got here is horrible.
The thought of moving Otis away from his beloved Elodie breaks my heart.
The thought of saying goodbye to so many people who I now regard as friends, is horrible.
But, for a whole host of reasons, it’s the right thing to do.
More than that, it’s something we’re looking forward to doing.
OK, I admit, when we were thinking about the idea, there were a few moments where I went through a range of emotions I didn’t know were there.
Or said another way, a whole range of emotions I’d obviously been doing a good job of keeping hidden deep down inside for years and years.
Part of it was a sense of guilt about moving ‘home’ after my parents had passed away.
I kept thinking that if I was going to go back, why didn’t I do it when they were alive?
Of course there were many reasons for it – reasons my parents both knew and encouraged – but underpinning them all was this belief I was never going to move back to the UK.
Except I am.
And while it’s been over 24 years since I last lived there – so it will probably feel like a totally new place – I’m excited about it, even though insane stuff like brexit is [allegedly] just around the corner.
Part of this is that I’ll be living in London for the first time in my life. [As opposed to just commuting there]
Part of this is because I’ll be physically closer to my beloved Paul and Shelly than I’ve been in over 2 decades.
Part of it is because it is another chapter of adventure for my wife, son and cat.
Part of it is because I will be closer to my Mum’s sister – my Aunt – in Italy.
And part of it is for what I’m going to be doing, which I’ll talk about another time.
But all that said, I’m incredibly grateful to Deutsch, my [new/old] colleagues and friends and Los Angeles for giving me an experience that has been an honour to experience and enjoy. I’ll write a proper goodbye to them all soon, but what they need to know is they made a huge impact on me and my family.
Both good and bad, hahahaha.
When Jill, Otis, Rosie and I came here, we never imagined we would leave so soon, as demonstrated by the acquisition of houses and cars and a whole host of electronics that will only ever work on US power supplies [the most epic garage sale will be happening soon], but – as we all know – sometimes life gets in the way of our best laid plans and when that happens, it’s better to embrace it than fight it.
So to everyone who has made our time here so memorable, thank you … we will miss you, even if you won’t miss us.
Or – more specifically – me.
London. I’ll see you soon.
Start making your excuses to avoid me now.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, Comment, Culture, Dad, Daddyhood, Emotion, Empathy, Family, Home, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Fatherhood, Nottingham, Otis, Paul, Resonance
So the time has come to close the door on the house I grew up in for one final time.
I’ve written the reasons for why this is happening in the past – as I have the reasons why the house was, and always will be, be so important to me – but it is the beginning of a new chapter for my family and my Mum and Dad would be so happy.
Anyway, we went to visit her one final time.
While the garden remained pretty much as my parents left it – thanks to us having a gardener visit every fortnight for the past 4 years [and we’ve taken a couple of things from there to plant in our new home so we will forever be connected] – going into the actual house was a very different feeling.
Part of it was because there was nothing in it.
No furniture.
No people.
No noise.
And so the overall effect was the house felt smaller … more fragile … and yet, as I walked through each room, there were so many emotions going through me.
As I watched my son run through the place holding his toys, I could see me – probably at his age – doing the same.
I saw where my Raleigh Grifter was waiting for me in 1989, on Christmas day.
I could see where my Dad – and then Mum – would sit in the lounge, on their rocking chair.
I could hear my Dad shouting ‘it’s ready’ from the kitchen our Saturday Beefburger was ready for scoffing down.
I could see my old clock radio when I was in the ‘small bedroom’ and my big stereo when I got ‘upgraded’ to the bigger room.
I could see the bed Mum and Dad slept in … where I would sit by them and chat throughout my time in the house.
Mum and Dad’s bedroom was especially poignant to me.
Regardless what happens in the future, it will always be ‘their room’ as they used for the entire time they were alive [and I was around].
Below is a photo of their empty bedroom that I took.
I’ve superimposed another photo of Otis that I took on the day after Mum died.
He’d just flown with his Mum overnight from Shanghai and he’s lying on the side Mum used to sleep on, looking at a painting of a mother and her child that hung above her bed.
He never got to meet her in person – he was supposed to a couple of weeks later when she recovered from her operation.
Alas it didn’t work out that way which is why this photo is so precious to me and why I feel, in a weird way, they did get to be together – hugging each other tight – if only for a second.
Another thing that got me, was when I went to the garage.
When we were having the house refurbished because we wanted to help a family live in a good area, we wrote a message on the wall about how much that house meant to us.
Well, when we checked at the weekend, we saw the tenants had left their own note and I have to say – it got to me because while my life is moving on, it was built in those 4 walls and I hope it does the same for anyone and everyone who lives there.
Thank you Mum.
Thank you Dad.
Thank you house … you will always be treasured.