Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Corona Virus, Emotion, Family, Holiday, Home, Hope, Jill, London, Love, Loyalty, Luck, Martin Weigel, Mercedes, Nottingham, Nottingham Forest, Otis, Paul, Paula, Rosie, Shelly, Virgin Atlantic
So I was supposed to be back today, but the gods had other plans.
I got covid.
After avoiding it for 2 years.
After moving to the other side of the planet in the middle of the pandemic.
They decided now was the optimum time to give it to me.
And maybe they were right.
Because this trip has – so far – been filled with nothing but miracles and love.
I got to see the wonderful Martin and Mercedes get married in Portugal, surrounded by old friends who I’d not seen in an age.
Including the brilliant Clare Pickens who I love enormously.
Not to mention Nusara and her husband … who I discovered actually exists.
Now it’s fare to say all weddings are special, but this was magnificent.
There’s many reasons for that – from the people, the venue, the moment – but it was something more than that. As I said on the speech I was asked to give at the last minute, we needed this. All of us. Not just Martin and Mercedes … but every person who was – and continues to be – affected by the devastation of COVID. Which means every person in the World because whether it has been small or big challenges, we’ve all had to deal with them.
And from there, I then got to see my beloved Nottingham Forest pull off the miracle.
From bottom of the league with the worst start in 108 years to playing at Wembley after 30 years and getting promoted to the Premiership after 23 years away.
And to be able to do that with my beloved Paul – who I’d not seen for almost 2 years – by my side, was just even more special.
I don’t mind telling you I cried when I saw him.
When he got out his car and gave me one of his massive hugs hello, I clung on and cried. God I’ve missed him.
Don’t get me wrong, I love NZ, but it is the first place I’ve ever lived that genuinely feels ‘far from everything’ … so with that and all that has gone on in the past 2 years – not to mention the fact this is the longest I’ve not seen him in my entire life – I realised how much I’ve missed and needed him around in my life.
So to have that and then watch our beloved Forest get back into the promise land together was – well, just unbelievably special.
Now if you remember the post I wrote when I was setting off on this adventure, you will note I have not mentioned seeing Paula and her baby yet and that’s because of the COVID gods. But they’re still being nice to me …
Because not only has COVID not been too bad for me – especially compared to what some people have suffered – it meant I had to move my flights as NZ travel rules meant they wouldn’t let me catch my plane. And even this set back has a silver lining.
Because of the demand on airlines – and the time it takes for RAT tests to show a negative reading – the earliest flight I could get was next Tuesday. So not only will I have the time to see her before I go, but I also get to see Paul again when we go to the Queen concert we booked back in 2019 that they had to cancel because of COVID.
Seeing Queen with my best friend and his wonderful wife Shelly is like the ultimate gift to end this incredible visit to Europe.
But there’s more …
You see the Queen concert is on the day the UK celebrates the Queen’s Platinum Jubilee.
I mean the royal one, not the musical one.
The reason this is significant is way back in 1977, my Mum and Dad brought me to London to watch the crowds celebrate her Silver Jubilee. I remember it well, despite being so long ago. So to be back in London – albeit by pure coincidence – on a day where England yet again is celebrating a landmark moment in the Queen’s reign takes me back to that day with my parents and that is a feeling I will really treasure.
What this all means is not only has this trip been more wonderful than I ever imagined, it’s ended up giving me more miracles and love than I ever expected. Miracles and love that I needed more than I ever imagined.
So while I can’t wait to get back to my family – and my team – I can honestly say this has been a couple of weeks that are one of the most important and memorable weeks of my life and for that, I thank everyone who made it possible … from Martin and Mercedes, Paul, Nottingham Forest, Colenso, Q-Prime, NIKE, Paula, Queen, Lee Hill and Virgin Atlantic and my brilliant supportive wife and son right through to, bizarrely, covid.
I don’t know how you did it Mum and Dad, but thank you.
So till next week.
R
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Anniversary, Attitude & Aptitude, Childhood, Comment, Dad, Daddyhood, Death, Emotion, England, Family, Happiness, Home, Jill, Love, Loyalty, Mum, Mum & Dad, Otis, Parents, Paul, Respect, Shelly
Hello there.
I hope you all had a wonderful festive season.
I hope 2022 rewards us with all the opportunities and possibilities that the past 2 years took away.
I hope we can see our friends.
See our families.
Be healthy.
Be happy.
Live with hope and optimism.
Now I said this blog wasn’t going to be back until Jan 31st … and it isn’t.
And frankly, after the December I had – which included the death of a dear friend, an unexpected hospital visit for me and an emergency operation for Otis [who is fully recovered, thank god] – I need all the time I can get to recuperate.
However on Sunday, it is 23 years since my Dad died.
In just 6 years time, he will be gone as long as he was in my life.
And in 9 years time, I will be the age he was when he died.
They will be two very significant moments in my life and – if I’m being honest – I’m nervous of one and scared of the other.
Nervous because it just seems impossible he will have been out of my life more than he was in it.
Of course he is still in my life, but you know what I mean.
Scared because the reality of death comes ever nearer.
Now I know no one knows when someone is going to die – but the idea that it could be when I’m 60 – like he was – is an irrational thought that just sits there. Coming out when I least expect it.
And when it’s quiet, another ridiculous idea enters my mind.
Because Mum died at 83 and Dad died at 60 … I can also convince myself I’ll die between those 2 ages.
So 72.
Now I get 72 is quite a way a way, but it feels a fuckload closer when you’re 51 and your son is only 7.
But all this could be the melancholy of this being Dad’s anniversary, because the reality is I’m happier in my life than I’ve been for a long time.
Not that I was unhappy, but there were moments … but right now, I am in a truly good place and my parents would be so happy to know that.
Which is why I want this post to be about something that would make Dad smile.
A few weeks ago, Jill and I were talking about books that made us laugh to the point of pain.
While we both had a few, her major one was Catch 22 and mine was the first Adrian Mole book – The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole aged 13 ¾.
Adrian Mole’s ‘diary’ came out in 1982 but I got it in the summer of 1983 … which means I read it at the same age as Adrian was.
I loved it. It was hilarious, poignant, tragic and uplifting.
It covered so many issues so many kids were going through.
Family. Friendship, Girls. Sex. Arguments. Parent and Grandparent arguments.
It was, in some ways, the diary of every kids aged 13.
I loved it and still love it when I revisit it every 5 years or so.
But the reason I’m telling you this is because of when my Dad read it.
I think Mum had told him how much I enjoyed it so he decided to check it out.
Anyway, one morning I came downstairs and Mum asked me to ask Dad about what happened in the night.
She said it with a smile, so I knew it wasn’t bad.
I went in the lounge and he was there in his favourite rocking chair.
“Mum told me to ask you what happened last night”
As soon as I said it, he looked at me. His face lit up, a big smile came on his face that allowed his gorgeous dimples to come into the spotlight.
“Oh Robert …” he said, “I was reading your book last night and the bit about the Christmas turkey not being defrosted made me howl with laughter.”
“It was 2am and I had to come downstairs to try and calm down”.
“The bit where they’re trying to thaw the turkey under the hot tap in the bath …” to which he he burst out laughing again with tears in his eyes.
Of course, seeing my Dad like this made me laugh too and then I heard Mum laughing from the kitchen at the state of both of us.
While I never really understood why that bit tickled him so much, I have an idea.
Whether it was the time Mum invited a really miserable elderly couple to our Christmas dinner but only announced it a few days before Christmas and we already had a house full booked … to Dad’s terrible first ever experience with a microwave that literally carbonised sausages … to drunk family members causing scenes … to buying a turkey so big it didn’t even fit in our over … to a not-very-funny-but-very-funny episode with a glass of water when his Mum came to visit.
Who knows. Maybe it was some of that, maybe it was none of it.
But regardless of the reason, I will always remember how that paragraph revealed the child in my Dad and that is why I will always love that book.
It might also explain why I love the Plenty Christmas ad from a couple of years ago. Because watching it again, it’s basically that scene made as a commercial.
I miss my Dad.
I miss him so much.
I would give anything to be able to talk to him and discuss what I’ve done in the last 23 years.
Introduce him to his daughter in law and grandson.
Tell him that Paul and I are still inseparable and mischievous.
Show him all the places I’ve visited and lived and then tell him about all the things I’ve done and still want to do and try.
Watch him try to take it all in and then hear all his questions.
But as I can’t, I’ll honour him by sharing the paragraph that made him roar [which is at the very bottom of this post] and say this:
Dad. I love you.
I think about you all the time.
I am almost overwhelmed with the things I want to say and share.
I hope you’d like [most] of the decisions I’ve made. I know a few would raise eyebrows, but hopefully not too many.
All I’ve ever wanted to do is make you and Mum proud.
I hope I’m doing that overall.
A kiss to you and Mum.
And a lifetime of my love.
To the rest of you, give your loved ones a hug and see you on the 31st.
_________________________________________________________________
The Secret Life Of Adrian Mole Aged 13 ¾ by Sue Townsend
Friday December 25th (1981)
I went up to the bathroom and found my mother crying and running the turkey under the hot tap.
She said, “The bloody thing won’t thaw out, Adrian. What am I going to do?”
I said, “Just bung it in the oven.” So she did.
‘We went down to eat Christmas dinner four hours late. By then my father was too drunk to eat anything.’
Filed under: 2020, A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Colenso, Comment, Culture, Emotion, End of Year, Fatherhood, Goodbye England, Grand announcements, Health, Jill, London, Love, Loyalty, Metallica, My Fatherhood, New Zealand, Nottingham Forest, Parents, Paul, R/GA
This time last year, I was writing about how I only had 11 days left of my 40’s.
That I would soon be reaching my ‘half century of age‘.
To say a lot has happened since then is an understatement.
A year ago, I was living in Fulham, working with R/GA and stuck in the first lockdown.
Since then, I have gone through redundancy, bought a beautiful family home in the countryside, watched Forest fuck up the best chance for promotion that they’ve had in 20 years, been in The Guardian newspaper, got ‘The Hoff’ to make a video for my beloved Paul’s big 5-0 birthday, started Uncorporated with Metallica’s management … worked with even more rockstars and billionaires … as well as some fashion icons, music producer legends and the most anticipated video game in history … bought a house in New Zealand that we never saw, moved to New Zealand in the middle of a pandemic, started working at the wonderful Colenso and got to see my family start living a ‘normal’ life again.
And that’s just the big bits.
So here we are again.
The beginning of the month of my birthday.
I hope to fuck this year is not as traumatic.
I’m fine with the variety, but please, not as traumatic.
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.