Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Childhood, Comment, Context, Dad, Daddyhood, Emotion, Empathy, England, Family, Friendship, Fulfillment, Happiness, Home, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, Nottingham, Otis, Parents, Paul, Relationships, Rosie
When I was growing up, our back garden was a disaster.
Overgrown.
Tall grass.
Brambles.
Bushes.
Beautiful mayhem.
As a kid, I thought it was amazing.
Me and Paul would run in there and it felt like we were in the jungle.
From playing hide and seek to pretending we were soldiers, it could all happen there.
Then around the age of 5, Mum and Dad had an extension put onto the house and because the loan they took out for it was a bit more than they needed to have it built, they spent the rest on the garden.
Oh how they loved it.
They spent hours there.
Creating it. Cultivating it. Nurturing it. Admiring it.
My god, the way my dad treated his ‘sweet peas’ was enough to make me think he loved them more than me sometimes.
And while I still could play softball tennis with Mum on the patio, I always felt I had had something robbed from me – despite the fact there was a massive park down the road and huge fields of nothingness around the house.
So from there on in, while I could appreciate a nice garden, I always saw them as something that pushed me away rather than welcomed me in.
Until now.
I readily admit I had nothing to do with the garden we have in the home we have just bought.
I readily admit part of its appeal is that it’s mature, so feels natural rather than contrived.
And I readily admit I am still as shit and unenthusiastic about gardening as I ever was.
But my god, I am shocked at how much I love it.
I can stare at it for hours.
Sit in it for days.
Doing nothing but looking at it’s beautiful vibrancy and shades.
Seeing Rosie the cat stretch out on the deck like she has just hit ‘peak cat life’.
Watching Otis play on the swing hanging from the tree then looking at Jill picking up all the apples that have fallen from Otis’ adventure. Turning them into pies that we scoff or give to the neighbours in an blatant attempt to mitigate the mayhem we’ve caused in the first few months of living here with huge moving trucks blocking the road and electrical blackouts that we absolutely, definitely did not cause.
The idea of all this is about as foreign to me as you could get.
I’m a city person.
I like noise and bustle not nature and quiet.
Yet … yet … this is something very special.
Something I feel a real privilege to experience, which I acknowledge is only possible because of the privileged position I am in.
And while all these feelings could all be because of my age or because this house is our family home – regardless of the incoming NZ adventure – the impact of a simple garden has been far more than I ever imagined.
Which makes me think it could also have something to do with making me feel closer to Mum and Dad.
You see while our little garden at home was nothing like this, it was incredibly special to them.
Sure it was beautiful. Sure it was the fruits of their hard work and care. But it seemed to be a place that let them feel everything was going to be OK, regardless of the challenges.
And over the years, our wonderful little family faced many – but that garden always gave them comfort and joy.
A little piece of heaven.
Blossoming into radiant beauty and colour even after the harshest of winters.
Reminding them that the darkest times will always welcome a new spring.
And while as a kid I didn’t really like how that garden had robbed me of my jungle, I grew to appreciate it.
I saw what it did for my parents.
I still remember how my Dad stared in wonder at it after his stroke.
He’d been in hospital for months and was finally allowed home.
And while he needed a lot of care from Mum, that garden was like medicine for him. Helping him forget the pain he was in. Helping him forget the turmoil he was going through.
No longer able to talk.
No longer able to walk properly.
But here, facing the fruits of his love and labour, all was forgotten.
He was safe.
He felt nourished.
He was connected to something his body was not able to let him enjoy anymore.
He and Mum could transport themselves to a time and place where everything was OK.
And while I hope I never face the tragedy my Father suffered – and acknowledge this garden is from the toil of others hands – I feel I get what nature was able to do for Mum and Dad.
Because it isn’t just what grows in the garden, but what it helps blossom within yourself.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, America, Attitude & Aptitude, Audio Visual, Childhood, Comment, Creativity, Culture, Dad, Emotion, Empathy, Experience, Love, Music, Queen, Relationships
OK, full disclosure, this is a post about Queen.
It’s also a post about parents, love, death and sentimentality.
So in some ways, it might be ‘peak-Rob blogging’.
But it’s not about me, it’s about a story I read recently that I just thought was beautiful.
OK, so it kind of reminded me of the time my Dad surprised me by buying The Works, Queen’s 1984 album, but most of all it just reminded me how music and memories are so deeply entwined that it has the capacity to act as some sort of temporary time machine.
And that is pretty wonderful.
With that, here’s the story …
For what it’s worth, my dad took me to see Queen at the L.A. Forum in’77.
I was 10.
This band Thin Lizzy opened for them. I remember thinking, “Who is this Lizzy chick?!?”
Then the lights went out, and Jailbreak began. I’ve never been the same …
All this is the introduction to one of the greatest moments of my life.
If ya have a moment, here’s the story …
I was 9 when I saw the full page ad in L.A. Times Calendar.
My parents had just divorced.
The Forum show was on my 10th birthday.
I called Dad …
“Hey Dad, um, Queen is playing on my birthday …”
“Yeah, I know. I tried to get tickets, but they’re sold out.”
[Damn!]
So Dad picks me up on March 3rd, and says “Let’s go to Sizzler for your birthday.”
“Okay, Dad, sounds great.” And it did, because I was thrilled to be with him.
So on the way to Sizzler, we ‘happen’ to pass The Forum.
In HUGE flashing lights: QUEEN TONIGHT!!
I thought ‘Oh man, what a dick! How could he torture me like this?!?’
I said nothing about that and we ate.
Afterwards on the way back home, we pass The Forum AGAIN.
Dad says …
“Oh, can you grab something out of the glove compartment for me?”
“Sure Dad,” I reply.
I open it and there – on top of the papers – is an envelope.
“This, Dad?” I ask.
“Yeah. Open it for me, will ya?” he says.
Guess what.
2 FUCKING TICKETS TO SEE QUEEN TONIGHT!
I will NEVER forget the sheer joy of that moment.
I still have the tour program.
Dad passed away, and at his memorial, I jammed all my brothers and nieces and nephews into my van and BLASTED Bohemian Rhapsody.
When it ended, there was complete silence.
It was freakin beautiful.
Thank you for reading.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, America, Attitude & Aptitude, Childhood, Comment, Context, Dad, Daddyhood, Emotion, Empathy, Experience, Family, Innocence, Jill, LaLaLand, London, Love, My Fatherhood, Parents, Sentimentality
Tomorrow I’m on holiday.
For over a week.
I am also turning 50.
Both of these pieces of news are no doubt going to fill you with happiness.
[Though there is a post tomorrow, so don’t get too excited]
Well, that is good, because this post is about just that.
Happiness.
One of the best things that has ever happened to me is Otis.
I loved the idea of kids – and at 18, I actually tried to adopt, hahaha – but after that, the idea was put on the back burner because frankly, I always thought I was too young.
I swear part of that is because Paul, my best mate, also didn’t have kids … so I was in some form of arrested development.
Anyway, one day Jill – who had been very patient – pointed out I wasn’t getting any younger so we decided to go for it.
Of course we then discovered the only we would pull this off is if we had IVF.
ARGH!
But then we got 2 pieces of luck.
First was being able to have the treatment in Australia. This was important because the process in Shanghai was so unbelievably weird, complicated and confusing, that we’re not sure we would have ever stood a chance there.
Secondly, the treatment worked first time. We are under no illusion how fortunate we were … though there was some sort of cosmic comedy karma in the fact we discovered Jill was pregnant on April 1.
Now I don’t regret being late to the Dad party.
The reality is I didn’t feel ready before.
OK, so I don’t know if men ever feel ready, but that’s probably less to do with being a Dad and more to do with the fear of the responsibilities associated with being a Dad.
And even though we are 5 years down the road, I still feel that.
Sure, maybe we could have had a brother or sister for him if we’d done it sooner. Sure, there’s a part of me that would have loved to do that. But apart from the fact I worry I may not get to see him grow old given my age, I can live with the fact I am soon to be 50 and I have a 5 year old bundle of beautiful mischief.
And what a bundle of beautiful mischief he is.
Kind. Compassionate. Emotional. Creative. Curious. Imaginative. Cheeky. Full of energy.
He is a loving son who wants to see the best in everything.
Part of me worries a bit about that.
I’ve already seen how some kids try to take advantage of that generosity, but in the end – all we can do is prepare him for how to deal with things that are sadly going to happen in his life and he is generally handling those tougher situations pretty well.
The main thing for me is for him to be able to enjoy his childhood.
I get that’s an incredibly privileged way to live … but I also think that’s something every parent would want for their children.
The fact is life passes so fast, we want to try and ensure he is given the chance to enjoy the present.
Be silly.
Try different things.
Resist placing pressure on him to do things he doesn’t like.
Don’t get me wrong, I’d love him to like playing football as much as he likes doing acting, but he knows to support Nottingham Forest, so I’m OK with it.
Which leads back to the point of this post.
Happiness.
When we lived in LA, we bought Otis a trampoline for his birthday
As you can see, he was very happy to get one.
In fact, he was so happy, he would want to do it all the time. Including at night, where he would go into the garage with a torch [where the trampoline was kept] and just bounce up and down.
For hours.
And hours.
And hours.
When we left America, I wanted to sell the trampoline and get another when we worked out where we were going to live. But Jill had other ideas. And as usual, she was right.
Because while the weather in London is not the same as the weather in LA, that trampoline was a guarantee of happiness for Otis.
Not just because it was a treasured possession from another place, but because he still loves to bounce on it.
For hours.
And hours.
And hours.
Which is a very long winded way to get to the point of this post.
As the weather is nicer, Otis likes nothing more than bouncing on his trampoline while being sprayed with water.
Yes, I know this sounds like the sort of torture the US government subjected inmates at Guantanemo Bay to, but he adores it.
Recently we captured a photo while he was doing it that, for me, sums up what happiness is.
As a feeling.
As a look.
As a parent.
As my son.
Which is why I hope this is one thing that never changes as he gets older.
Not just because I doubt it can be topped – regardless what he does – but because, for me, it is the definition of perfect.
Stay happy Otis.
You make your old man giggle with pride and delight.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Agency Culture, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, Comment, Communication Strategy, Creative Development, Creativity, Culture, Cunning, Differentiation, Emotion, Empathy, England, Entertainment, Experience, Football, Happiness, Honesty, Imagination, Innovation, Insight, Interviews, Love, Loyalty, Management, Marketing, Nottingham, Nottingham Forest, Paul, Planners Making A Complete Tit Of Themselves And Bless, Point Of View, Presenting, Sentimentality
So a while back I was invited to do a talk for Isolated – the TedTalkesque site that raises money for charity.
I could have revisited a presentation I’d written I the past, but I thought I would take the opportunity to write the presentation I’ve always wanted to write …about why Brian Clough was so amazing.
Now I could have written a thousand slides, but as Isolated in linked to creativity, I decided to make it slightly relevant to that subject by framing the presentation about ‘why the creative industry needs more of Clough’s attitude towards success’.
Whether I pulled it off is anyone’s guess and frankly – I don’t really care – because I got to write about Cloughy, but if you fancy checking out a long, rambley, over-sentimental and biased talk about Clough and Nottigham Forest, then head over to Isolated and hear me bore you half to death.
Now I appreciate the idea of hearing my voice could be too much for you to deal with, and if that’s the case, I have an alternative plan …
1 Donate money to Isolated … because it’s for a good cause.
2 Look at the deck below.
Now I admit you won’t get much out of it just seeing the deck without my accompanying narrative because it’s my usual random ‘picture’ rubbish … plus the gifs don’t work.
And where there is some writing, the lack of context means it may come across as some sort of z-grade psychobabble [even though it is all from interpreting Clough’s beliefs and philosophy over his near 20 years running Nottingham Forest] … however if you can put that all aside and want to look at some amazing pics of some amazing Forest players over the years, then it may be the best presentation you’ll ever see.
Maybe.
Possibly.
Hopefully.
Anyway, it’s Friday so just humour me and even if you don’t agree with what I say [which would be hard because there’s no chance you’ll be able to work out what I’m trying to say, because even I’m not entirely sure] know my goal wasn’t to get your agreement, but just to write a presentation about Nottingham Forest and the incredible Brian Clough.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, Childhood, Comment, Emotion, Empathy, Experience, Friendship, Fulfillment, Insight, Love, Otis
Contrary to retailers attempts, the official Christmas countdown starts now.
Of course, for some of you out there – including my wife and I – a loved one may also be having a birthday during this month as well, which just adds to the stress of what to get them.
Well I am here to help with a handy Christmas/Birthday guide …
Now just ‘any guide’ but something that will ensure you can give a gift that is tailor made for whoever you are buying it for.
All you have to do, is invest the time in knowing who they are, what they’re really interested in or what they wish eo explore.
Here it is.
You’re welcome.