Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Anniversary, Attitude & Aptitude, Birthday, Childhood, China, Comment, Confidence, Context, Culture, Dad, Daddyhood, Death, Emotion, Empathy, Family, Fatherhood, Football, Goodbye America, Goodbye China, Grand announcements, Health, Home, Hope, Innocence, Italy, Jill, LaLaLand, Love, Loyalty, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Fatherhood, Nottingham, Nottingham Forest, Otis, Parents, Sentimentality, Shanghai, Shelly, WeigelCampbell
So today is June 1.
In 11 days, I wave goodbye to my forties and enter a decade that seems impossible for me to fathom.
50.
FIFTY.
Seriously, how did this happen?
I still remember sitting on the hill outside Erica’s newsagent with my best mate Paul around 1978, when we worked out that in the year 2000, we would be turning 30.
But here we are, 11 days from 50.
[Though it’s 15 days for Paul, who will LOVE those 4 days where he can bang on about how he is a decade younger than me … though he will also moan that my present for him isn’t like the full page newspaper ad I got him when he was 40, but a Forest shirt signed by all the members of the 1980 European Cup team. Asshole. He knows about this present as I bought it for him years ago so I’m not ruining anything for him. But I still have a surprise for him. Oh yes.]
Turning 30 bothered me a bit.
I was totally fine with becoming 40.
But 50!
I’m both bricking it and utterly casual about it.
And while there are some practical reasons for the shitting myself part – health, work, life in general – the fact of the matter is the older I get, the better my life has become.
I totally get the privilege of that statement, I don’t take it for granted at all, but it is definitely true.
Personally, professionally, emotionally …
Sure there have been some bumps along the way – some terribly hard and emotionally destructive ones – but looking at the big picture, the reality is my life has generally been on an upward trajectory.
Now even I know that it can’t keep going like that forever … but it doesn’t mean I have to stop trying.
The fact is, the older you get, the more you discover …
From what you like, what you don’t … to what you didn’t know and what you want to know.
And what makes it even more amazing – and annoying – is that every step you take, in whatever direction, reveals a whole host of other possibilities you would like to explore and investigate.
The problem is time is now officially, not on your side … so there’s a point where you have to accept you won’t get to try, play, experiment with all you want to do, so while that might put some people off, it kind of makes me want to try and pack more in.
And I am … because on top of work, Metallica, the school with Martin, I’ve already agreed to do a couple more projects that are intriguing and – frankly – ridiculous.
But there’s another reason for this attitude and it’s because my Dad died at 60.
Death is something I’ve talked a lot about over the years – mainly due to both my parents passing away.
I’ve talked a lot about the importance of taking about it, but I must admit, I’m scared of it.
I’m in generally good health, but fifty is still 50 and my Dad still died just 10 years on from this age.
Now of course it doesn’t mean I will … and I’ve come to this completely unscientific view that I should live till I’m at least 71 because if you take away my Dad’s age of dying [60]from my Mum’s [83] … that leave 23 years. Halve that … add it to Dad’s age … and voila, I will live till at least 71.
But then that means I only have 21 years left.
TWENTY ONE.
That’s nowhere near enough.
My wonderful little boy is only 5 for fucks sake. 26 is way too young to lose your Dad … hell, that’s even younger than I was when I lost mine.
Years ago, an old boss I looked upto said that if you can’t feasibly double your age, that is when you know you are – at best – middle aged or – at worst – the last stage of your life.
Well I suppose I can still feasibly double my age – even if it’s against the average age of death for a man in the UK [79.2] – but the reality is where I’m going is shorter than where I’ve been.
But shorter doesn’t mean less interesting.
And arguably, I have more exciting things in my life now – both personally and professionally – than I have ever had.
It also helps I am insanely immature with a desire for mischief, experimentation, creativity and adventure.
And I intend to fill it up with even more.
Fortunately I get that from a number of sources.
My wife.
My son.
My job.
My other jobs.
My friends.
My mind.
A while back, Pete said something I found pretty profound.
He said the narrative of strategy tended to focus on the importance of curiosity when discovery is far more valuable for driving the standard of the work you create and the adventure you go on.
Now I’ve written a lot about how I hate when planners talk about curiosity – as if they’re the only people who have it – but I really, really like that idea of the hunger for discovery.
I absolutely have that.
I owe so much of what I have to that.
The countries I’ve lived in. The people I’ve worked with. And most importantly, the family I am fortunate to have.
So while I enter a new decade, I will continue to live like it’s the old one.
Not in terms of dressing like I’m younger than I am – mainly because I have always dressed like I live in 1986 – but with the hunger, ambition and desire I’ve always had.
I genuinely believe my best work is still ahead of me.
Truly believe that.
And the goal of this decade is to achieve some of that while discovering new things that make me believe even better work can still lie in my future.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Anniversary, Attitude & Aptitude, Birthday, Childhood, Comment, Dad, Daddyhood, Emotion, Empathy, Family, Home, Jill, Love, Mum, Otis, Parents
Yesterday would have been my Mum’s birthday.
My Mum’s 87th birthday.
That means she has been gone 4 years and frankly, that seems incredible.
So much has happened in that time …
From moving countries twice.
To changing jobs twice.
To selling our family home to buy a new one.
And while I am in a much better place than I was after the tragic days that she died, I still am prone to being hit by moments where her loss is almost overwhelming for me.
I wish she could have met Otis for real.
I still remember her words when I called her minutes after he was born.
I was incredibly emotional and she was so tender towards me.
Making sure I was OK, Jill was OK and Otis.
Asking if the baby crying in the background was her grandson.
Telling me how happy she was and how happy she was for us.
How she loved the name Otis.
And while she was alone in her home in Nottingham – wishing madly that she was with us – she still told me to go and be with Jill and my son because she was the most compassionate, thoughtful person I have ever known.
While Mum saw Otis on video chat, sent me countless emails/SMS’s about him and – for a brief while – was in the same room together [though sadly it was after she had passed away] … the fact is they never were together in the flesh and I would have loved to have seen that happen.
To see her face as he called her Nona.
To watch her smile he wrapped his arms around you and gave her a big hug and kiss.
To look at my Mum reading her first grandchild a story or walking him through the gardens and explaining the flowers or just watching him run around like a tsunami and then look at me with that look in her eye that tells me everything.
How he’s perfect.
How she loves him so much.
How she is so proud of me and Jill.
How happy she is right at that very moment.
That would be the best present for her – not to mention for me – and while none of those things will be able to happen for real, I will think about them tonight when I’m home and giving Otis a big hug and kiss, because while there are many things I can do a whole lot better at, my Mum [and Dad] taught me one thing I am very good at.
How to love.
Happy birthday Mum, I miss you so much.
Hope you and Dad are laughing and holding hands.
Rx
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, Comment, Culture, Dad, Daddyhood, Emotion, Empathy, Family, Home, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Fatherhood, Nottingham, Otis, Paul, Resonance
So the time has come to close the door on the house I grew up in for one final time.
I’ve written the reasons for why this is happening in the past – as I have the reasons why the house was, and always will be, be so important to me – but it is the beginning of a new chapter for my family and my Mum and Dad would be so happy.
Anyway, we went to visit her one final time.
While the garden remained pretty much as my parents left it – thanks to us having a gardener visit every fortnight for the past 4 years [and we’ve taken a couple of things from there to plant in our new home so we will forever be connected] – going into the actual house was a very different feeling.
Part of it was because there was nothing in it.
No furniture.
No people.
No noise.
And so the overall effect was the house felt smaller … more fragile … and yet, as I walked through each room, there were so many emotions going through me.
As I watched my son run through the place holding his toys, I could see me – probably at his age – doing the same.
I saw where my Raleigh Grifter was waiting for me in 1989, on Christmas day.
I could see where my Dad – and then Mum – would sit in the lounge, on their rocking chair.
I could hear my Dad shouting ‘it’s ready’ from the kitchen our Saturday Beefburger was ready for scoffing down.
I could see my old clock radio when I was in the ‘small bedroom’ and my big stereo when I got ‘upgraded’ to the bigger room.
I could see the bed Mum and Dad slept in … where I would sit by them and chat throughout my time in the house.
Mum and Dad’s bedroom was especially poignant to me.
Regardless what happens in the future, it will always be ‘their room’ as they used for the entire time they were alive [and I was around].
Below is a photo of their empty bedroom that I took.
I’ve superimposed another photo of Otis that I took on the day after Mum died.
He’d just flown with his Mum overnight from Shanghai and he’s lying on the side Mum used to sleep on, looking at a painting of a mother and her child that hung above her bed.
He never got to meet her in person – he was supposed to a couple of weeks later when she recovered from her operation.
Alas it didn’t work out that way which is why this photo is so precious to me and why I feel, in a weird way, they did get to be together – hugging each other tight – if only for a second.
Another thing that got me, was when I went to the garage.
When we were having the house refurbished because we wanted to help a family live in a good area, we wrote a message on the wall about how much that house meant to us.
Well, when we checked at the weekend, we saw the tenants had left their own note and I have to say – it got to me because while my life is moving on, it was built in those 4 walls and I hope it does the same for anyone and everyone who lives there.
Thank you Mum.
Thank you Dad.
Thank you house … you will always be treasured.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Audio Visual, Before Fame, Childhood, Content, Context, Creativity, Culture, Daddyhood, Emotion, Empathy, Family, Freddie, Happiness, Jill, Love, My Fatherhood, Otis, Paul
Happy 2019!
I hope you had a fantastic time with loved ones.
I also hope 2019 is a very special year for you all, for all the right reasons.
While I’ve been back at work for 3 days already – which were spent in bloody Miami – I have to say I had a wonderful time, even if I didn’t get as many gadgets as I hoped I would.
That said, I’m not making any plans for the year ahead.
I’ve seen too many best intentions get ruined before the end of the first week of a new year to fall into that trap.
But it’s fair to say I do have some hopes for 2019.
Some are professional, but most are mainly personal.
More than that, they’re personal because it involves people I love rather than for myself.
I know … I know … who the hell am I?
The reality is I’m doing OK.
That doesn’t mean I don’t still have a huge drive to go further, but right now, my hopes are for others for the year ahead.
Of course the main people I’m focused on is Jill and Otis.
In September Otis will start ‘proper school’ and we just hope he gets into one that follows the values his Mum and I believe in. We never realized finding a school for him would be so hard … but when you don’t want to go private, don’t want religious associations and don’t want the focus to be so academic his creativity is impacted, I guess it was never going to be easy.
So we have our fingers crossed and will deal with whatever happens.
Which is why I am also focused on Jill.
As much as Otis has impacted my life in so many wonderful ways, it’s Jill who will experience the biggest change once he goes to school.
It’s Jill who has stayed with him throughout his formative years.
It’s Jill who has spent the days with him every week, playing and educating and just generally looking after him.
Their bond is a beautiful thing to witness and I know she feels being a mother has been the most fulfilling thing she has done in her life.
So now what does she do when she leads him to the next stage of his life?
Of course there will still be loads they do together, but I want to give her the backing to find something that fulfills her, whatever that may be.
I know it won’t be the same as helping raise our bundle of energetic joy 24/7, but I am excited to see what she will do.
She is extremely talented, creative and compassionate – and while I know she doesn’t want to start her amazing cake company again – we have discussed some things that she is excited by and I’ll be backing her all the way for whatever she chooses.
I say this because I recently saw the photo at the top of this post.
It’s a photo of Queen drummer, Roger Taylor, looking at the Freddie Mercury statue he has at the bottom of his garden.
The statue that was on top of the London theatre when their musical, We Will Rock You, was performing.
I have to say, I found the photo very poignant.
Apart from the fact it’s wonderful he wanted to keep the statue of his old friend – I can’t imagine what it must be like to see it every day.
Does he look at it and think about all the amazing things they did together?
Does he look at it and mourn the loss of someone he loved like a brother?
Does he look at it and feel the sadness of memories he will never experience again?
Growing old has many benefits – including not giving a damn what others think of you – but it can also act as a bitter pill when the things around you … the things you brought into this world … start taking on a life of their own.
At these points you can either sit back and focus on the change or lean in and explore the possibilities.
For the past 30 years of my professional life, I’ve been fortunate to always embrace leaning in to the possibilities – possibilities that has seen me live around the World and meet an endless stream of wonderful, creative individuals.
While I have no intention of stopping that approach to living, I do want to make sure that in 2019, Jill gets the drivers seat because apart from her generosity in letting me do so much of the steering, the reality is she was the one who helped us navigate to where we currently are so I know by handing over the driving to her, she will go to somewhere wonderful and fulfilling and no one I know deserves it more.
She’s the best thing that has ever happened to me.
So happy 2019 to all … I’m excited to see where we all end up in the next 12 months, even if my blog posts will continue to bring the excitement of possibility down to a slow, painful crawl.
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.