So today is my beloved Paul’s birthday.
While I wish I was able to celebrate his special day with him, knowing we were together so recently helps minimise the disappointment that I can’t be today.
Especially as we got to experience two incredible events together in the space of a week.
Watching Forest win promotion to the Premiership and seeing Queen in concert at the O2.
It was like it was arranged by a higher power. It was amazing.
And as I wrote a few weeks ago, I needed it.
I don’t mean the experiences – though they were amazing – I mean spending time with him.
I’d not seen Paul for almost 2 years and that may be the longest we’ve ever gone apart.
That would be significant for me at any time – but with my parents gone, Paul is the person who has been in my life the longest and so not being near him takes on added significance.
He has always been my best friend, but now he’s even more than that.
Put simply, I love him.
Every single thing about him.
From his infectious immaturity to his evolution into Frothy Coffee Man.
And even though every bit of trouble I’ve ever got into my life can be traced back to him … he is so important and special to me and I hope he knows it.
One day we’ll live close to each other again, but till then – happy birthday Paul. I hope you have an absolutely immense day and are spoilt like buggery by Shelly … and I look forward to the time we can celebrate together again.
Love ya.
I’m a pretty lucky guy.
Contrary to popular opinion, I have worked hard for stuff … but I can’t deny that the life I have is disproportionately good to the life I probably deserve.
And nothing sums this up more than being married to my wife.
She is a beautiful, compassionate, considerate human.
She has supported and encourage me on everything I’ve wanted to do.
From moving countries to jobs to everything in-between.
Any success I have had is definitely with her influence stamped all over it.
Today it’s her birthday.
And while she will enjoy it, she also not want me to make a fuss about it.
Not because she doesn’t like birthdays, but because she doesn’t like being the centre of attention.
When I wrote a post about her a few months ago, she was a bit embarrassed about it.
She likes the quieter life and me talking about her and her achievements made her feel a bit uneasy. And while I don’t want to make her feel that way, it’s very hard for me to dial-down how much I love her because quite frankly, she’s everything to me.
Oh the things I could write.
The things I want to say.
About what you mean to me and how great I think you are.
But I’ll do as I’m told by just saying this.
My dear Jill.
Happy, happy birthday.
You’re the absolute best.
I am so happy and lucky to have you in my life.
You’re an amazing person … mother and wife.
Otis, Rosie and I hope you have an amazing day.
We’ll do our best to make sure you do.
Here’s to many more birthday’s I have to resist celebrating publicly.
Lots of love my love.
Rx
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Authenticity, Comment, Family, Love, Parents
I had a lovely birthday.
Despite not receiving your presents. Tight asses.
Anyway, I digress …
I want to write a post about being a parent.
Put simply, it’s amazing.
Better than I ever could have imagined.
But what is interesting is how parenting is often portrayed in advertising.
It’s either unicorns or hurricanes.
Soft focus or extreme disaster.
But the reality is in most cases, that’s just not true. It’s somewhere in the middle … where the love is always there, even though it sometimes manifests itself in ways that seem to suggest otherwise.
Years ago I asked Ros – who was a member of my team at Wieden – to go interview teenagers about something they remember their parents said or did to them that was hurtful, even though they know it wasn’t meant that way.
Everyone had one.
It may have been something really innocuous … something their parents can’t even remember saying or doing … but it was cemented in their feelings or memories.
Maybe an offhand comment.
Or a misplaced judgement.
Or a small disagreement.
Nothing major. For some, forgotten in a second. For others … remembered for a lifetime, even if the pain of it has long passed.
We made a cool little film about it called, ‘Parents Fuck You Up’ … I’ll try find it, because even though it’s in Mandarin, it’s something I’m sure we all relate to. I know I do.
I wrote years ago about the revelation I’d had of why I might like Birkenstocks so much.
When I was a kid, my Mum was trying to teach me how to tie my shoelaces. I just couldn’t get it. And she got so frustrated that she lost her shit with me.
It was the only time she was ever like that with me – and she felt bad about it her whole life, when she absolutely shouldn’t have – but that moment is seared in my brain, which may explain why I ended up loving shoes that have no laces.
Maybe.
I say this because I recently watched a repeat of an episode of Gogglebox. It was an episode that when I watched it the first time – back when I was in England – it made me laugh so much I had an asthma attack.
It’s not even that funny. But having a parent says this to their daughter is … because it’s far more reflective of our family relationships than advertising will ever capture honestly.
Enjoy. Have a great weekend.
And remember your kids remember stuff better than elephants
It feels wrong to write about my birthday when I honestly feel I had one of the best presents of my life with my recent trip to Europe, but the reality is, it is my birthday on Sunday and I’ll be 52 whether I like it or not.
And while there’s a bunch of things I don’t like about ageing, the older I get the more I realise it’s your attitude towards it.
Fortunately I have always been blessed with a big dollop of immaturity.
I’ve had people tell me it’s a weakness, but it’s served me pretty well.
It makes sure I don’t get too lost in the seriousness of life.
It helps me love and chase the daft.
It reminds me people are a bundle of emotions, regardless how hard they try to hide it.
But as I’ve got older, another trait has started to reveal itself.
Impatience.
I realised it when I was in a conversation with the wonderful Lee Hill recently.
He asked if I was becoming more patient in my older years and I told him it was the opposite.
I am not prepared to spend my time on things I think are a waste of my time.
Now I get how arrogant that sounds.
I also get that just because I don’t think something is important, doesn’t means someone else does. And that’s cool.
It’s just I’m not able to invest my time in it.
I appreciate there’s implications with that – from work to relationships – but I’m good with that.
The irony is I’ll do any amount of menial tasks if it’s in the quest to take leaps rather than move inches. I’ll work the longest hours if it creates the conditions for change rather than complicity. And I’ll jump through any amount of annoying process hoops if fights for craft and creativity rather than the contrived and confusing.
But age is refusing me to do any of that if it hasn’t got those goals attached.
It’s not being a diva. Or a prick.
Life’s too short for any of us to be doing that stuff.
As I said, I get it’s important to someone … but I can’t help but feel for all the supposed focus on efficiency and effectiveness that the industry is obsessed with, so much of what we do ends up being about looking busy rather than making a real difference.
Or as I wrote a while back …
The whole industry is engaged in creating different forms of remuneration landfill.
Imagine how much impact we would have economically, creatively and culturally if we were evaluated on what we changed rather than what we produced?
On what we encouraged rather than what we controlled.
What we learned rather than optimised.
And that’s why I have come to the realisation that while ageing may have many problems, impatience isn’t one of them.
In fact, it may be the thing that makes the back half of life, at least as exciting as the front.
So happy 52nd to me on Sunday.
Filed under: Comment
[And happy birthday to Lizzie]