The Musings Of An Opinionated Sod [Help Me Grow!]


It’s Time …

When Mum died, I inherited the family home.

Despite having not lived there for 20 years, it was still very important place to me.

Not just because Mum left it to me.

Not because my Mum still lived there.

But because it’s where I lived for all of my life – until I moved to Australia – and so the memories in those 4 walls were full of everything important to me from my first 25 years of life.

I have to be honest, the first reaction I had was to hire a security guard and keep things exactly as they were because the thought of selling it was just not going to happen.

Slowly I came round to the idea that a security guard was a bit extreme so I started – slowly – thinking about renting it out.

The thing was, when we had estate agents come check it out, they highlighted that having not been renovated for over 40 years, it needed some major work.

This was really hard for me because by saying it needed renovating, I heard it as ‘the house is not good enough’ … which I then interpreted as ‘the house my Mum loved and lived in, wasn’t good enough for others’.

Of course that’s not what they meant, but my emotions – and need to protect my Mum’s legacy – were very high at that point..

And if that was challenging for me, it got even harder when it got to clearing the house.

We spent a couple of weeks going through photos and possessions so we could identify everything we wanted to give to charity.

While Mum didn’t have expensive things, there were some lovely items which is why the worst thing – almost as bad as losing my Mum – was when I saw the charity people come by with bins and throw everything into them … no care, no consideration, no nothing.

And when I heard them literally smash my Mum and Dad’s wardrobes to smithereens – the things that had held their cliothes for 40 years – I had to leave the house as it was all too much.

But out of this darkness came an idea … an idea that I felt would honour my Mum in terms of the life she lived and the values she believed in.

We found a fantastic set of builders and had the house refurbished from top to bottom.

Removed all the wallpaper.
Plastering all the walls.
New paint everywhere.
New Kitchen.
New Bathroom.
New flooring.
New carpets.
New front door.
Some structural change in the house.

At the end, it was basically a new house and yet with the warmth and love of the old, as exemplified by this note that I wrote in the garage …

But that was only part of paying homage to Mum…

The next step was to find a young family who would love to live there, but couldn’t afford it.

You see our plan was to subsidize the rent – and maintain the gardens my parents loved so much – so a young family would have a chance to raise their kids in the beautiful environment my family gave me.

Of course, when my family bought the house – back in 1970 – the area was very different to what it is today, but zoom forward 40 years and it’s seen as very desirable. Not because it’s posh, but because it’s safe, has a strong community and great schools for all.

To this day, I’m so grateful my Mum and Dad were able to find £100 more than the other buyer or who knows where I would have ended up.

Anyway, by pure chance, we found a family who were sort-of connected to someone Mum once worked with. That was perfect, as it felt even more connected to her.

But what was even better was the mother of this family was Italian, like my Mum.

For the past 4 years we have had this arrangement and everyone has been happy.

But now it is time for a bit of a change.

Not because I want to become a bastard landlord, but because I’m now living in the UK and things are different.

You see part of the reason I wanted to keep the house – apart from the obvious – was that it gave me roots here. It meant I was still connected to where I grew up. That I mattered.

It’s kind-of similar to why we bought a bench for Otis at his school in LA.

Having spent the last 24 years out of England, the house represented a connection to my heritage and that was important.

But now I’m back … and while I don’t know how long for, I see it in terms of long-term rather than short.

On the day before Mum died, she told me she was sorry she wasn’t going to be able to leave me much.

I told her not to think like that and reminded her the love she and Dad gave me made me rich beyond my dreams.

But on top of that, I reminded her she was generously going to leave me her house … a house in a wonderful area … so she could relax knowing she had given her son more than he could ever have imagined.

And that’s why I am ready to let the house go.

Not – as you may think – because I am ready to move forward.

The truth is, I will always miss her and want her in my life.

The reason is because I see a way to use the house to reinforce the role my parents had – and have – in my life.

You see the one thing my parents would have loved to do is help me have a home of my own.

While I have been incredibly fortunate to do this without their assistance, I know that their dream would have been to contribute to that.

Of course they did with the love and support they gave me in life, but to them, providing some cash to do it would have made them feel so happy.

So that’s what they are going to do.

While we are happy in London, the truth is my wife and son need to be surrounded by nature.

Nothing reinforced this than our trip to the farm recently.

So we want to find a home a bit outside of London.

A home Otis can truly settle in.

A home that is our home.

Of course we don’t want to unsettle the tenants and will do all I can to help them – as well as give them as much time as they need to work out what’s next – but selling the house allows us to use that money to help my parents fulfill their dream.

We are incredibly fortunate to be in this position.

We are incredibly grateful to be in this position.

But the idea to have a place that is – for want of a better phrase – our forever home, is hugely enticing.

It will let us put down roots.

Connect to the community in ways we have never done previously.

Build rather than live.

This might sound dramatic and I am not saying we have had it tough in any of the other places we’ve lived or houses we’ve had … but we have also never been in a place where we saw ourselves for the long-term.

Because of that, we have always been looking to what’s next rather than maybe enjoying the moment as much as we could or should.

Of course this isn’t going to happen overnight, but to come to this point of decision represents a landmark for my family and for my grief which is why I am so happy to be home and so happy to look forwards with more security, regardless what the future may bring.

Given my birthday is tomorrow, that’s possibly the best present anyone could have.

Advertisements


Another Landmark Moment Of Daddyhood …

So today is my last post for over a week as I am off to the US [again].

And while that news might make you happy, today makes me happy for totally different reasons.

You see later today, my wonderful little boy, Otis, takes part in a theatre production.

For the last few months, he has been going to a drama class with other kids his age … and to say he loves it, is an understatement.

He comes home singing songs.

His vocabulary has noticeably evolved.

He’s using his imagination in new ways.

He is even projecting his voice to new levels.

Though on this last point, there are some disadvantages given Jill sent me this text as they were sat on the bus on their way to pre-school last week …

OK … OK … you can wipe the smiles off your faces now thank you.

I know it’s just a kids show.

I know it will be a bit ramshackle.

I know there may be tears and laughter.

But that’s what makes it brilliant.

Not from a ‘I get to laugh at a bunch of kids’ sense, but from a ‘look at those kids discovering the impact they can have on others’.

But of course, from a personal perspective, seeing my son express his creativity while being part of something bigger is going to be a massive thrill.

Quite frankly, I don’t care how he performs as long as he enjoys himself.

He wanted to do this – there was absolutely no push or pressure from us – and so all we care about is him having fun and seeing his parents support him.

That said, I hope it’s not like the first ever performance I did.

Christmas 1976.

The school nativity play at Heymann Primary School.

I was a rabbit. OK, not a pivotal role, but one that gave valuable context to the other ‘actors’.

However just before I was due to go on, Mrs Staples – or it could have been Mrs Berry – asked me to swap jumpers [Mine was a white one with red stripes in boxes, where hers was pure white] for some reason with Rebecca Baldwin.

After that last minute change, I went out on to the stage to a packed assembly hall full of parents sitting on very small seats trying to jostle their way to the front so they could snap off a few pics with their cameras.

Now imagine my pain – as I looked though my rabbit mask – seeing my parents proudly looking at Rebecca, thinking it was me.

They did this through the whole play and I can still see the look of shock on their faces when we took off their masks and they saw their little boy had become a little girl.

To be honest, if that happened with Otis, I’d probably find it funny … but overall, I am incredibly excited to see him perform today. Seeing him happy and free is one of the most beautiful things in my life. It’s why the schooling thing is quite hard because British schools are pretty strict and we want one with a much greater creative syllabus.

But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it …

Most important for me today is to see my little boy have the time of his life, which – as I’m sure most parents will agree – is the thing we wish for them most in the World.

What a great way to head off out on a business trip.

Thank you Otis.

See you in 10 days.



For Auntie Silvana …
February 19, 2019, 6:15 am
Filed under: Comment, Dad, Family, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, Silvana

Outside of my Mum and Dad and my best friend Paul, Auntie Silvana has been involved my life the longest.

From my earliest age, I remember her always being there – whether that was arguing with my dad about politics or showing us around London on one of our frequent trips to visit her.

Despite facing many challenges in her life, Auntie Silvana – like her sister – was a fiercely independent woman. She never wanted to rely on someone else for help which is why she could be incredibly stubborn if she disagreed with something someone was trying to make her do. But when I think of her, the memories that flood my mind are of an incredibly kind, incredibly considerate, humble yet generous person.

She only ever wanted the best for others. She would encourage you every step of the way. And when you achieved something – however small – she would celebrate it with genuine happiness and celebration … never wanting or expecting anything in return.

There are so many things I am thankful to Auntie Silvana for. From giving me my first ever television to taking me to my first theatre show to helping my family when we needed it most.

She was a wonderful, kind, worldly and cultured lady and while I am devastated she has gone, there are 3 things I am grateful for.

1. She was able to continue living an independent life till the end. Given her eye problems, that’s testimony to her tenactity.

2. I am able to be here to let her know how much I loved her and how much my wife, Jill and my 4 year old little boy – Otis (who called her ‘Auntie Nana’) – did as well. I will forever be grateful she got to hold my son given my Mum sadly passed away before she could meet him in real life.

3. I am able to repesent my Mum and Dad – who are no longer here but would absolutely want to be if they were around – so they could share their love for her and say thank you for all you did.

Silvana, you were an amazing Auntie to me.
An amazing sister to my Mum.
And an amazing friend to my Dad.

Words will never be able to capture how much I thought of you and while the pain of your loss will last a long, long time … the memory of you will last far longer.

The World is a little less kind for your loss.

I’m happy you can be reunited with your family.

Say hi to Mum for me and thank you for everything.

Tanti Baci.

Comments Off on For Auntie Silvana …


Twenty Years In The Blink Of An Eye …
January 16, 2019, 6:15 am
Filed under: Anniversary, Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Dad, Daddyhood, Mum, Mum & Dad, Parents

So 20 years ago today, my wonderful Dad died.

That means 40+% of my life has been without him.

That’s mind-blowing … but it’s also testimony to his brilliance as a Dad, that I think of him every day.

The older I get, the more I understand what he – and Mum – taught me.

The way to look at life.

The things to encourage and believe in.

The need to always life a life of fulfillment rather than contentment.

Amazing, valuable, brilliant lessons that he was able to bake into me in such a way that they continue to grow in importance, even though he has been gone for 20 years.

The good news is that I have started to remember him when he was healthy rather than ill.

For so many years when I thought of Dad, I saw how he was over his final few years rather than the years before his stroke.

But even then he was an inspiration.

His ability to try and be positive even when his entire life was falling apart.

To stay strong for his son when he knew he was trapped in a prison of the mind.

I love my Dad so much.

I would give anything to see him again.

Talk. Ask questions. Introduce him to my family.

See his eyes glisten with mischief and love.

Dad was someone who ensured I can look at my childhood with the feelings of love and support – something, that as I get older, I realize was not something everyone can say – which is why 20 years later, I might miss him even more than when he first passed away.

Which – when you come to think of it – might be the best compliment I can give him.

I miss you Dad. Hope you and Mum are together and happy.

Comments Off on Twenty Years In The Blink Of An Eye …


Humanity From A Calculator Company …

So how was your first week?

I don’t mean being back at work, I mean reading this blog.

Depressing wasn’t it.

Well I want to leave you with a little bit of positivity.

As many of you know, my Mum helped develop the calculator that is pictured above.

It’s one of the reasons why I’ve continued to use the one she gave me for the past 35+ years.

That – and the fact I’m crap at maths – so ended up using it more to type 55378008 than work out any trigonometry challenge.

Or basic addition.

Anyway, to my mates, it’s as identifiable towards me as my Birkenstocks – even though when I was at school, they took the piss claiming it was as big as one of the BBC Micro Computers we used in class.

Sadly, when we were moving to London from LA, the stupid movers broke it.

Not just interns of it not working, but in terms of cracking the actual case.

I was very sad, because – like the Braun Bedside Clock – it was something that was a real connection to my parents, so I wrote to Texas Instruments on the off-chance they could fix it.

Unfortunately they said any attempt to repair it could cause more damage so instead they’re sending me a mint condition, new-old one as a tribute to my Mum.

I cannot tell you how happy and thankful I was to hear this news.

I cannot tell you how much I love the people at Texas Instruments.

A company that makes office tech showing more heart than companies that claim to be in the people business.

They didn’t have to do that.

They could have just ignored my email altogether.

But they didn’t, they listened and they tried to help.

We could all learn from this. Especially companies who claim to be in the people business.



Till Next Year …

So this is the final post of the year.

It’s been a big year for me and the family.

Then again, it was a big year for the family last year too.

However, whereas 2017 saw us leave Shanghai and Wieden+Kennedy – something that was truly emotional for all of us – 2018 has seen us go from sunny LA, working at Deutsch, living in a house by the beach and driving a custom made Audi to being citizens of cold and rainy London, living in a much smaller house in Fulham, working at R/GA [with some sprinkles of Metallica madness in-between] and traveling by tube to and from everywhere.

And we haven’t been this happy in ages.

Don’t get me wrong, there are things we definitely miss from our life in the US – people, the weather, Otis’ school, free soda refills and bacon mainly – but this move was right for us for a whole host of reasons, personal and professional, and we enter 2019 with the full expectation we’ll still be here when 2020 comes around.

I hope.

It’s funny, when I read the final post I wrote for last year, it is apparent that change was in our minds. We didn’t think that openly, but it seems it was there.

Of course, moving to a country and then leaving in just over a year is not the best thing.

It’s financial stupidity for one.

But these things happen and we are very happy for the amazing experience, though I must admit I’m even happier my wife, son and cat are still talking to me.

Fools.

But while our environment has changed, some things have stayed exactly the same.

Your ability to trash everything I write on here, for one.

And to you all, I say a huge thank you.

Sure, being told I’m a bad dressing, musically ignorant, gadget tosser every-single-day can get a bit tiring, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Because amongst the insults, there’s often pearls of gold in there.

Stuff that makes me think about things a different way.

Stuff that influences how I think about things I never thought about.

Stuff that just keeps me on my toes and interested about stuff.

And I love it.

I love that people come here and share a bit of their time and opinion with me.

Yes, I appreciate moving to the UK and still posting at 6am is screwing up the flow of the comments given the East Coast of America is asleep and can’t insult/join-in until much later … but the fact so many people still write makes me feel very fortunate.

While I have loved the ability to move countries and cultures so many times – and hope to continue doing it, just not for a bit – the reality is that is makes your friendship network difficult.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m very fortunate we have technology to keep me in touch with the wonderful people I’ve met in every country we’ve lived [whether they like it or not] and this year I got to catch up with people I’ve not seen in years – from Freddie to Paula – but there is something about having a level of constancy that makes you feel settled.

Bizarrely, this blog has provided me with a bit of that.

Even with people I have still yet to meet.

[Though I met Marcus and Neil Perkin this year and that made me so happy]

While I would never suggest I am your friend, you have been to me – in many ways and at many times, both at moments of darkness and happiness – and I want to take this opportunity to say thank you.

To all of you.

Even you Andy.

When I started this blog way back in May 2006, I never expected anyone to read it, let alone comment so the fact some of you still are – regardless that many Police officers would call it abuse – I’m grateful.

I’m excited about next year.

It will be big.

Not because we’ll be moving … or I’ll changing job … but new things will be entering my life.

From my beloved Otis starting proper school – which literally is screwing with my head – to the much-talked-about-but-not-much-actually-done Weigel/Campbell officially doing its thing in addition to the exciting adventures and exploits my wonderfully beautiful family, my bloody amazing friends and fantastic new planning team will get up to that will make me feel even luckier than I do already.

Being back in England has had a much bigger effect on me than I ever imagined it would.

I am grateful for it.

I am grateful for all I have.

I hope this holiday season and 2019 is one that is wonderful for you all too.

See you in a few weeks. [Yeah, don’t think you get so lucky to not have me come back]



Messing With The Beat Of My Heart …

Today my wonderful little boy, Otis, turns 4.

Four. How is that possible?

It literally seems yesterday I donned a mask of the Queen [her Royal highness, not Freddie and the boys] and asked the doctor who delivered him, to photograph us.

Sadly that is not a joke and here is the proof …

And yet, despite that inauspicious start to life, he has approached all that has come his way with a wonderful sense of energy, optimism, happiness and curiosity … from seeing his Dad fall apart when his besotted grandmother died when he was just 3 months old to moving to 3 radically different countries in his first 3 years of life.

I love him in ways I can’t describe.

I often find myself flicking through thousands of photos of him while I’m sat on the tube.

Watching him literally grow in-front of my eyes … and I don’t mind admitting there have been occasions where I’ve had tears in my eyes.

Not out of sadness, but just out of how much I love his face.

No wonder no one wants to sit next to me.

He has been one of the greatest things in my life from the moment he was born.

While Jill was pregnant I was focused on trying to plan for the unknown …

How much would it cost?
How would it affect our life?
How will we cope with all he will need?

And then the moment he was officially out in the World, none of that mattered …

It was all about him. And us. And how our lives had suddenly become immeasurably richer and more loving.

I’m embarrassed to admit how naive I was as to how good being a father would be.

I always liked the idea of being a Dad, but never really understood the impact it would have on me. I assumed the relationship would be built more around ‘responsibility’ … and while there is a big part of that, it’s way, way more two-way than I assumed.

I learn from Otis.

I experience life with Otis.

I re-evaluate what is important because of Otis.

He is literally the best part of me.

Of course a big part of that is because his wonderful Mum has had an extraordinary influence on how he is turning out … but he is still the best part of me.

I wish my parents could have met him. I know for a fact they would adore him.

Not just because he’d be their first grandchild, but because of how he is approaching life …

Curious. Happy. Cheeky. Compassionate. Eager to learn, play, experiment and laugh.

I love him with all I’ve got.

Every single part of me absolutely adores him in ways I can’t properly describe.

When he climbs into our bed and pushes his way into the middle of us at some ungodly hour of the night, I often turn around, see his beautiful face resting peacefully and feel the happiest I have ever felt.

Family.

My family.

All together … including the cat.

I know this won’t last forever … there will be a day when he doesn’t climb between us, and while I will finally get a good nights sleep, I have to admit I’ll miss it.

These are very special times, but I know I’ll only truly appreciate just how special when they’re not happening anymore.

Because the irony of being a parent is your job is to help them live without you.

Where they don’t rely on you.

Where they develop their own interests and social circle.

Where you become the person they visit occasionally rather than see every single day.

Where their relationship with you fades in importance as they create their own families and life.

That’s part of the twisted wonderfulness of being a parent and one I don’t mind admitting that I’m dreading and excited to see.

But even when that happens, I know that whenever I see him or hear from him or even think of him, it will mess with the beat of my heart, because he is – and always will be – everything to me.

So to my dearest Otis … happy birthday.

You bring so much joy to me and your Mum.

You’re perfect to us.

Never forget that.

Love you.

Rx