Filed under: America, Attitude & Aptitude, Australia, China, Chinese Culture, Comment, Culture, Dad, Daddyhood, Family, Hong Kong, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, Otis, Parents, Paul, Relationships, Rosie, Sentimentality, Shanghai, Singapore
Today would be my Dad’s 82nd birthday.
That means he’s been gone 22 years.
In a few years, I will have lived longer without him in my life than in it.
Yes, I know that he is still in my life, but I just find that fact so hard to deal with.
I live in fear that one day, I will only think of him when a significant date occurs.
That he will become a figure of my past, rather than my present.
Of course I don’t believe that will really happen, but to be coming up to the point where I will have spent more of my life without him in it, is really tough to take.
What’s worse is he died just as my life was getting started.
The only thing he knew – mainly because he and Mum pushed me to continue with my plans, despite his stroke – was that I moved to Australia.
While both my parents missed me so much, they were adamant I had to go.
I had planned it for a long time.
They saw it as an opportunity and an adventure for me.
And they also – and rightfully – knew that if I didn’t go, I’d never go.
Of course there was nothing wrong with where I was.
I loved – and continue to love – Nottingham. But both my parents knew the possibilities for me outside of my home city were probably bigger than were in it, and they just wanted me to have a chance of exploring what it could – regardless what turned out.
That’s unconditional love.
A level of support and encouragement that – now I am a father – takes my breath away.
Oh the things I wish I could talk to my Dad about.
The adventures – good and stupid – I’d love to discuss with him.
I think he would be proud. He might raise his eyebrows at a few things, but I think he would be happy with the choices and decisions I’ve made.
He would love to meet Jill.
He would be delighted to meet Otis.
He would be thrilled to know my friendship with Paul is still rock solid.
He may even be happy to meet Rosie – the most well travelled cat in the universe – despite never really liking cats.
And when I was to tell him that journey to Australia led to me living in countless other countries – including Shanghai – he would be so happy.
He always found China fascinating.
Part of it was because back then, China was still an unknown quantity.
A huge place that was kind-of invisible to the World.
For me to have lived there … had for his grandson to be born there … would be a topic of conversation for years.
And I would love it.
Watching his eyes twinkle with curiosity.
Watching his brow wrinkle as he processed my responses.
Watching his smile as he held Otis and said, “Ni Hao” as if a local.
Oh Dad, I wish you were here.
What I’d give for one more conversation, one more hug.
What happened that night in Hong Kong is still etched in my heart … but I want more.
I’m greedy, but you were gone too soon.
For you, for Mum and for me.
Happy 82nd birthday Dad, I know none of us believed in God, but I do hope one day we can have that conversation.
Love you.
Give Mum a big kiss from me too.
Rx
Filed under: Anniversary, Birthday, Comment, Daddyhood, Emotion, Family, Friendship, Jill, Love, Loyalty, Otis, Paul, Shelly
I know I’m on holiday and there should be no posts this week, but today – like yesterday – is a moment that needs to be celebrated, even if I’m not around.
June.
1970.
2 amazing things happened.
The first was I was born … hahahaha.
But the second occurred 4 days later, when Paul Hill popped out.
Though some of you in Nottingham will know him as the Frothy Coffee Man.
Since that day, we’ve basically been inseparable.
From discovering we lived on the same street – at least initially – to going through every school class together, every drama and hardship together and every exciting adventure together.
From kindergarten to college … divorce to death … mortgage to marriage … we’ve always been together.
Always.
And now my parents have passed away, he is the person I’ve known – and who has known me – the longest my life and that might be part of the reason why I genuinely regard him as family.
Hell, I haven’t bought a full page ad in a newspaper for anybody else … and that includes my wife and son!
I don’t know what it was, but we just clicked from the second we met.
A bond that has remained to this day.
And I genuinely mean a bond.
Even when I spent 25 years away from the UK, Paul was always my best mate.
We could go a month without talking – or a year without seeing each other – but the moment we were back together, whether in the flesh or on the phone, it was there.
The bond.
Solid as all fuck.
Like no time had been between us.
Now if you ask my wife, there is one thing that defines this … our immaturity.
You see, while life has changed for both of us, when we’re together, we return to being cheeky, mischievous 10 year olds.
OK, some of that is because Paul has done some momentously stupid things that makes me cry with laughter … and some of it might be that we have a lifetime of memories and experiences we’ve built up … but generally, when we’re together, we get younger.
Or more precisely, act younger.
I can’t tell you how grateful I am that our wives put up with it.
Just like I can’t tell you how happy I am our wives adore each other.
But there’s something even better than that, and that’s how Otis talks about his odd-parents.
Having my son see my oldest friend and his wife as part of his family is such an amazing feeling.
Maybe part of this is because Paul and Shelly don’t have kids of their own …
Maybe part of this is because Otis has spent so much time with them …
Maybe part of this is because Paul acts younger than Otis …
But whatever the reason, I am so happy he see’s ‘Uncle Paul and Auntie Shelly’ as being important in his life because I want all of them to know how important they are in ours.
To reach 50 with my best friend is a wonderful thing.
I would love to just sit down and talk about all the things we can remember together.
And while I could do that today – when I go to see him – it would take a long time.
But there are some things that stand out to me …
From him ALWAYS picking me as the ‘dog’ in the song ‘Old McDonald’ … so all the kids in kindergarten would smack me on the head.
To the time he came back from a family trip to Hong Kong with the first digital watch I’d ever seen with a calculator in it.
When we bumped into each other in LAX, not knowing our wives had spent 6 months secretly planning a trip for us all to go to Vegas and renew our vows with an Elvis impersonator.
That year he came back from the school 6 week holidays about 10 feet taller than when he left.
When we stayed up all night in Sheffield so we could get to the front of the stadium to see Queen – only to learn they weren’t coming and we got Five Star instead.
To Mr One Eye, Round Table Christmas Tree, shoes on the wrong feet, the girls at Glens, BMX petition, the ‘Jessops’ mirror, Duchess, the ‘Denmark’ incident, wheelie competitions, a coach reversing up his parents driveway at midnight, Rock City on Friday night, Bangkok Shakes tours, sawing my finger off, his insanely large appendage, Passport to Pornland …. he has been involved or connected to every single event in my life.
Good. Bad. Happy. Sad. Big. Small. Fun. Stupid.
And yet in all this time together, we have only ever had one falling out.
One!
And all I can remember is that it was about a local radio DJ who had committed murder.
God knows what we disagreed on but all I know is we were waiting for the number 45 bus to take us into town from Greythorn Drive … we had an argument … and I walked off in a huff.
I think I rang him the next day in tears to apologise and he was like, “what are you apologising for?”.
And that’s him.
Kind. Generous. Stupid. Lovely.
The reality is, Paul and I have a friendship based on enjoying life rather than worrying about it.
That doesn’t mean we are immune from pressure, troubles and hardship.
We both have had – and will have – situations that have been challenging and devastating to us. And when they happen, we are there for each other. But when I think of my relationship with Paul, I think of happiness.
That I still think that 50 years down the line is both incredible and testimony to his character.
I am proud of who he is.
I am proud of what he’s doing..
I am proud I get to call him my best mate.
Happy birthday beautiful.
Can’t wait to see you.
Here’s to the next 10.
Rx
_________________________________________________________________________________
Oh hang on, I’ve forgotten the best part.
As you know I’m a sentimental fart.
When Paul turned 40, I wanted to get him something that would show him how much I adored him and so – as I mentioned earlier in this post – I bought a full page ad in the Nottingham Evening Post newspaper.
The ad is the picture showing Paul at different stages of his ‘development’.
What’s funny is the paper then interviewed me to find out more about my ridiculousness gift and for some reason, they kept referring to Shelly – his wife – as ‘second wife, Shelly’.
They even printed it!
Fortunately she took it in good humour, which is handy as I then bought her mugs and tea towels with it proudly emblazoned on them.
But 50 is a whole different age …
So while I wanted to get Paul something that celebrated his birthday milestone and showed how much I love him … I wanted it to be more subtle, more respectable, more in keeping with people of our age.
So I got him this … I hope he like it, it took me an age to edit it all together
Happy birthday big fella.
Filed under: Anniversary, Attitude & Aptitude, Birthday, Comment, Jill, Love, Otis
Yes, I’m on holiday.
Yes, I know I am not supposed to be writing any blogposts.
But today – and tomorrow – are exceptions, because it’s special people’s special days.
Starting with today, where it’s my wonderful wife’s birthday.
I am conflicted about it.
I love that we are growing old together.
I love that we have memories together.
I love that we have ambitions together.
But I hate how quickly it’s all going.
I am so grateful for all she is in my life.
For all she’s done … supported and encouraged.
I just wish it wasn’t happening so quickly.
For all the horror of COVID, it has been very special for me.
I get the privilege in that statement, but to be with Jill … to spend more time with her than maybe I have ever spent has been incredibly special.
Of course I wish it wasn’t at the huge cost that it has been for others, but I do look at this period as one I will remember for the worst and best of reasons.
Happy birthday my love.
You’re wonderful in every way.
You make everything better, including who I am.
I love you.
So much.
Rx
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, America, Anniversary, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, China, Comment, Dad, Daddyhood, Family, Friendship, Honesty, Jill, Love, Loyalty, Otis, Parents, Paul, Relationships
So this is it.
Today I’m 50.
I’m also on holiday.
Well, I say holiday, but I’m just going to be hanging out with the family for the next 10 days.
Yep, I’m going to be doing exactly the same as I have for the last couple of months thanks to quarantine.
Christ, this is the weirdest holiday I’ve ever had.
Literally doing more of the same, albeit without the zoom calls.
But I’m happy – as I know you will be given there won’t be any blog posts for all that time.
OK, as I wrote last week, I’m not exactly ecstatic about reaching my half century … but the fact is, I know I have little to complain about.
The life I have is one that is totally different to the one I imagined. Even aspired for.
When I look back at what my ‘goals’ were when I was in my late teens, it’s unbelievable how mundane they were.
How unambitious.
There are some reasons for that which reflect the times my family were going through – but even so, they’re pretty beige.
Of course, there’s nothing wrong for that, but when I compare it to the life I’ve had and the life I intend to have … they’re about as different as you can get.
That’s not meant to sound some ‘bigging up’ of myself, simply a reminder that your ambitions are a reflection of the World you live in which is why I will be forever grateful to my parents that they were so supportive of me going on an adventure when they could have so easily encouraged me to stay … especially as Dad had his stroke just as I was about to leave and basically the entire family was thrown into disarray.
Dad couldn’t talk or walk.
Mum had to leave her job immediately.
She didn’t drive and so for months, she had to catch the bus to the hospital.
And then, when he did come home, she had to do the majority of the care on her own.
In fact, when Dad got ill, I immediately said I was staying but Mum and Dad insisted I go, because as much as they loved me and would miss me, they were worried if I didn’t take this opportunity after months of planning, I may never go.
And they were right. I wouldn’t.
I’d have stayed in England forever.
Possibly never even left Nottingham.
And while there would be absolutely nothing wrong with that, they knew exploring the World would help me discover who I am.
To encourage that at the very worst time of their life is the definition of unconditional love and I hope if I am ever in that situation with Otis, I would do the same.
To be honest, it’s their encouragement to go explore and discover that became my biggest driver in life.
Basically, if I was going to go away – leave my family to deal with the terrible hardship of Dad’s illness – then the least I could do was embrace the opportunity they gave me. To never take it for granted and chase down the things that interested, challenged, intrigued and inspired me.
I’d like to think I did that and do that but I know I went through a lot of soul searching when came I back to England after they had died. I kept asking myself why did I do it then when I could have come back when they were still here.
Of course there’s many reasons for that – and there’s a good chance we won’t be in England forever – but I know for a fact that as proud as Mum was about all the places I lived [Dad only knew I was going to Australia and he would have be blown away if he knew all the places I’d lived and seen] she would be so happy I was back. For however long that may be.
From seeing others turn this age, it appears this is the moment where they tend to evaluate where they’ve been and where they’re going.
And while I’ve done a little bit in this post, the fact is I do it on a daily basis.
It’s as much about what pushes me towards the unknown as it is that keeps me focused on what matters to me.
Hence the title of this post …
Because when you don’t look for security in everything, you remain open to anything.
So now it’s time to wrap this post up.
You will be relieved to hear I am going to resist the urge to be overly nostalgic and sentimental, so will leave with this:
While they will be in my heart and mind throughout the day, I don’t mind admitting that I wish Mum and Dad were here to celebrate with me.
That said, I am so happy my beautiful wife and son are here to share my special day with me.
And I genuinely feel so lucky that the most important person from my earliest days – Paul – is still the most important friend in my life today.
As I said, overall, it’s been a pretty fucking amazing run so far – and while I have worked hard for it [contrary to what many will say] I’ve also been bloody lucky along the way too … and I intend to keep that run going – at least in terms of adventure and exploration. I still owe that to my Mum and Dad.
So happy birthday to me and I’ll see you in 10 days …
Older, but not wiser.
Exactly as I like it.
Filed under: Advertising, Attitude & Aptitude, Childhood, Chocolate, Comment, Context, Craft, Crap Products In History, Culture, Emotion, Family, Fatherhood, Jill, Love, Otis, Parents, Premium
I remember when the ice cream above first came out.
It was 1982 and it was like nothing I’d ever seen before.
For a start it was sold as a lump of ice cream.
Oh no, Viennetta was a ‘dessert-cake’ … a blend of sophistication and excellence, crafted by experts for the most special of occasions.
I wanted to try it soooooo badly, but I remember having to wait an age before I could … but as it was light years from any other ice cream I’d ever had, when I finally got it in my gob, it absolutely lived up to the anticipation.
38 years later, and I know this ‘sophisticated dessert cake’ is only £1 at the local Co-op – which means it’s about as sophisticated as an episode of Tipping Point – however it still feels like I’m having a very, very special ice-cream experience whenever I have one. Which isn’t often because somehow, I still think it is only for rare occasions of celebration.
What’s interesting is that when I had it, I posted a photo on instagram and the response was of equal adoration.
And then people went into celebrating other low-rent, mainstream shite we thought was the height of sophistication.
Like After Eight Mints.
Or Ice Magic … the sauce you poured on to your shitty Asda vanilla ice cream [or Neopolitan, if your Mum and Dad were feeling extravagant] that then TRANSFORMED INTO A SOLID LAYER OF CHOCOLATE TO ELEVATE YOUR SHITTY ICE CREAM EXPERIENCE.
Incredible.
But of all the comments I got, my fave was from Kev Chesters with this …
And while I loved it for a whole host of reasons, the main one was his order of using a teaspoon.
Not a dessert spoon.
Not a table spoon. [Though this might be the same as a dessert spoon]
But a teaspoon.
Because regardless how old you are.
Regardless how many Viennetta’s you could buy and eat.
A teaspoon was the psychological way of making your favourite desserts last longer.
Smaller spoon.
Smaller amounts of food on it.
More spoonfuls to enjoy.
I still do it and it made my day to know Kev did too.
Which all should act as a reminder that advertising is an incredibly powerful force … especially when it’s targeting people who know no better but dream of being more than they think they will end up being.
Thank you Viennetta. For the memories, the experience and the taste.