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
A week ago, this post was not going to be written.
Circumstances – some real, some assumed – were working against me.
From Forest missing out on automatic promotion to NZ immigration issues stopping me from attending the wedding of someone hugely important to me as well as seeing the first born of another person who is hugely important to me.
I had begrudgingly come to terms with it, but then – like magic – it all changed.
Forest – somehow – managed to get to the playoff final and border restrictions got changed earlier than imagined.
And what does this mean?
It means I’m flying to Europe on Sunday.
It means – thanks to NIKE getting me tickets – I get to see Forest play at Wembley.
It means I get interviewed on the Nottingham Evening News about my trip. [That’s not a joke]
It means I get to do this with my best friend Paul who I’ve not seen since September 2020.
It means I meet the first born of my dear friend and incredible planner – Paula Bloodworth.
[Made better by her husband being from Nottingham and Forest fan, which kills her. Ha]
It means I can give you 10 days of freedom from this blog.
TEN DAYS!!
But the icing on the cake is that I also get to see my beloved Martin Weigel marry his beautiful and wonderful Mercedes.
He might not want me to talk about this, but he’s probably so stressed trying to sort out the final arrangements that he will either not see this or not care.
But after trying to make this wedding happen for THREE YEARS – fuck you COVID – next Wednesday, in Portugal, we finally get to celebrate the most wonderful day of the year.
And I include the unlikely possibility of Forest getting into the Premiership in that statement.
Put simply, Martin and Mercedes are genuinely amazing and wonderful humans.
Yes, I know Weigel can come across as a miserable bastard intellectual … but the reality is he’s one of the most wonderful and warm people I’ve ever met. Of course I’m not supposed to say that – but it’s true – after all, how else would he get to marry such an amazing woman?!
People may think Martin and I are an odd couple, but everyone knows Martin and Mercedes are the perfect couple and I cannot sum up how happy I am for them.
Up until a couple of days ago, I didn’t think I could go.
I was invited, but visa and immigration issues were messing with it.
But now – on the day Forest won the match to get into the Championship playoff final – things changed and I’ll be there and I’m overwhelmed about it.
Not just because marriages are always wonderful.
But because marriage is important.
I’ve written about this before.
Of course everyone has their own opinion, but based on my experience, it has been the single best thing that’s ever happened to me.
Did it change anything when we’d been living together for years?
Actually it did.
Emotionally.
For the better.
It made me feel more secure, more cared for, more together.
And while that may not be the case for everyone, I have a sneaky suspicion it will be for Martin and Mercedes. And so it should, because they’re wonderful and right now … I am the 3rd happiest person in the whole wide World.
Thanks to them.
And because of them.
So to my dear M&M – but not Eminem – congratulations.
At a time where the planet is in a bit of a state, what you are doing next week – and what we all will celebrate – is a reminder that there’s beauty, happiness and hope out there.
I’m so glad you found each other.
I’m so glad you’re in my life.
I’m so glad I’ll be there.
Masses of love to you both.
Good luck to Forest.
Here’s to one of the most important and special weeks of my life.
A week I never expected to have, just a few days ago.
Which is a reminder of how awesome life can be.
As proven by the fact I’ll see you on the 2nd June.
Ta-ra lovelies.
Rx
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Age, America, Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Culture, Insight, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad
A few weeks ago, I walked into our lounge to see Jill watching the very first edition of The Golden Girls. For those of you too young to know what it is, have a look at this ‘best bits’ compilation.
After a couple of minutes, Jill asked me to guess how old the main characters were supposed to be in the show.
Given the name of the program and the style of fashion they were wearing, I suggested in their early to late 60’s.
I was wrong.
Jill told me that the ages were 47,53 and 55.
Or said another way, I was older than one and just a few years behind the others.
Then she hit me with this …
The characters were supposed to be the same age as the women in the reboot of Sex And The City.
To help explain why this news impacted me, have a look at this.
Now we are talking about ‘character age’ not real age … plus the ‘backgrounds’ of each show are about as different as you can get … but still.
Then a few days later, this was posted featuring Dorothy from the Golden Girls and Lisa Rinna from The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.
Again, one is in character and the other is … OK, probably also in character … but the shift in age perception – or presentation of it – is startling.
On one hand there’s something awesome about it.
While I – and society – absolutely don’t want to see me sashaying down the street wearing designer clothes and botox lips … the idea that people in their 50’s don’t have to hide themselves away and can feel they are an active member and contributor to society is awesome.
However by the same token, the thought you may need to match the look and behaviour of people much younger than you, just so you can be ‘validated’ is terrifying.
Now of course women have been facing this situation for centuries, which is why the older I get, the more I realise what a brilliant role model I had in my Mum.
You see she always believed age didn’t defy you, your interest in what was happening in culture did.
It’s why she followed emerging artists in film, music, art, literature and politics.
It’s why she would go to a classical concert as well as watch new comedians.
It’s why she viewed ‘growing old gracefully’ as being interested in what others are interested in rather than extracting yourself from modern life because ‘it was easier that way’.
Now this didn’t mean she always like what she saw and learned – and she most certainly wasn’t going to dress in the latest trends and fashions – but she wanted to contribute to life rather than criticise it simply because it was continually evolving.
Which helps explain why I found the Golden Girls/Sex And The City comparison so amazing.
Because dramatic shift in terms of fashion and looks aside, the reality is ageing – especially for women – hasn’t really evolved at all.
Sure, you may not have to ‘hide yourself away’ as much as you used to, but looks are still the foundation of validity and fashion is still the criteria for relevance.
How utterly fucked is that?
For all the talk of modernity, the reality is not much has changed. In fact, it’s arguably even worse now as there is the illusion it’s actually better.
But it’s not.
White men are still born with inherent advantage.
As a 51 year old, badly dressed man, I still receive incredible benefits.
So don’t let the exposure of older, female actresses sway you from the reality.
Sexism and ageism is alive and well.
It’s something perpetuated by the media and championed by society the world over.
In simple terms, if you have to ‘look’ the part to be seen by others, something is fucked up.
And women have to do that more than men. Fact.
Growing old is enough of a pain in the arse without having to deal with that shit.
Which is why it would be so much better if we valued interest rather than image.
Another thing I need to thank my Mum for.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Comment, Dad, Death, Family, Fatherhood, Home, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, Nottingham, Otis
A few weeks ago, I saw a tweet by the comedian, David Baddiel.
It was this.
It was late, but there was something about it that really touched me.
Of course, hearing a parent has died is always sad. And over the years, my stance on Mr Baddiel has gone from ‘annoying’ to ‘wonderful’. But I think it was the sight of the worn chair that got me. A reminder of a parent who preferred comfort over new. A father who saw the chair worn in rather than worn out. An extention of the parent rather than just another piece of furniture in the home.
I definitely related to that.
I still remember going into Mum’s bedroom after she died – the bedroom that my shared my entire childhood – and saw it was a bit worn out. Needed some care, some attention, some updating. But what’s interesting is that while I’d been in that room a million times, it was only then that I the condition. Because when my parents were in that room … in that bed … the whole room radiated love and life and all the worn paint and old carpet disappeared from view.
But I also know how important it is to hold on to some of that.
Getting rid of your parents belongings is devastating.
I definitely remember genuinely considering hiring a security guard to just sit outside the house so I could keep it exactly the way it was. Hell, I even tried to buy the home phone number from British Telecom, or whatever they’re called these days – so I would have a connection to my past … to my parents … forever.
Jill gently convinced me that wasn’t the best way to move forward. Reminded me that wouldn’t be what my parents would want. But she also knew I needed to keep a physical connection to them and that house … so she came up with a brilliant idea that I thought may help a man I don’t know, get through a terribly painful situation I do know all too well.
So I responded to him with this and went to sleep.
The next morning I woke up to my phone screen full of twitter notifications and saw this.
Thousands of likes.
Hundreds of comments.
A mass of retweets.
I couldn’t quite believe it.
And when I read the comments, every single one was positive.
No snark. No pisstaking. Just a mass of lovely, considerate, words. Which was more wonderful than I could ever have imagined, because as much as it’s nice to have something you said/did liked by so many, what made the biggest impact was so many people saying they now had a way to take their family and home with them, when their family and home are no longer there.
A bit of calm in the worst of storms.
And since I wrote this post, the number of people who liked it and commented on how this can help them deal with their grief has increased more and more.
So thank you Jill.
You helped not just make one of my hardest times, less dark, you have helped others see a way out of their darkest moment.
Filed under: Birthday, Comment, Jill, Love
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