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


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.

Advertisements
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



Fathers Pride …
August 23, 2018, 6:15 am
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Dad, Daddyhood, Emotion, Family, Mum & Dad

Dave Grohl.

One of the founders of Nirvana.

Founder of The Foo Fighters.

Drummer. Guitarist. Singer.

He’s the rock star everyone likes even if they don’t like his songs.

Permanently positive, continually upbeat with a dollop of mischievousness thrown in for good measure.

He cares deeply about his fans … whether that’s playing a festival in Italy after someone sent him a video of a bunch of musicians playing ne of his songs or just inviting people on stage to play with the band.

But there’s something not everyone knows and that’s how good a dad he is.

For example, come rain or snow, Dave Grohl takes his kids to school and picks them up again.

Every single day.

In his family wagon.

No glitz, no glamour, just as normal a family life that an international rock star can give his kids.

Of course, there’s the odd exception.

When his kids school was having a fundraiser, he played a private concert there with Paul Stanley of KISS and Sammy Hagar, ex-Van Halen.

However recently, he has started to introduce his kids to the wider World.

Not in some fame hungry way, but in terms of letting them express their own musical talent.

At a recent concert in Oakland, Los Angeles, he played back-up musician to Violet – his 12 year old daughter – as she sang Adele’s ‘When We Were Young’.

Putting aside her incredible voice, it’s the various looks of utter pride he has on his face as he witnesses his daughter invigorate a crowd with her flawless vocals.

I love how he doesn’t try to take the spotlight.

I love how he has a huge grin on his face when she hits the high notes perfectly.

I love how he knows her voice is better than his and he’s so proud of that fact.

I imagine it’s similar to how Robert Plant felt when he watched Heart perform Stairway To Heaven at the Kennedy Centre and realised he had done something that would outlive him.

I have to admit, it brought tears to my eyes.

I look at my precious boy – Otis – and wonder if that will ever happen to me.

Where I get to witness him express his passion, in some way. Whatever it is.

I hope so.

I don’t say that because I worry he might not have a passion, I say it because I worry I may go before he discovers it.

Being an older Dad brings with it a whole bunch of worries and insecurities.

I don’t regret it because I wasn’t ready for it before, but being 48 years old and having a father who died at 60, there is a nagging worry that I may only have 12 more years left.

Of course I know the age of my Dad does not mean that will be the age I die, but I worry …

I want to see Otis grow up.

Sure, there’s a big part of me that thinks he’s doing that too quickly already, but I long to see him do things that he is passionate about. I long to experience that uncontrollable smile as I witness my little boy do things he loves.

And that’s why the video of Dave Grohl and his daughter really hit me.

Because I know that whatever success he has achieved in his life as a rockstar, it won’t be as amazing as him seeing his daughter live her truth.



Everything Good Starts At Home …

As I’ve mentioned many, many times, my parents drilled into me the importance of living a life of fulfillment not contentment.

It took me a long time to truly understand what they meant by that, but when I did, it was a revelation.

It is behind so many of the decisions I’ve made in my life.

From moving to so many different countries.

Starting cynic and Sunshine.

Right through to – hopefully – being the father and husband my wife and son thoroughly deserve.

This last one is especially important.

Not just because I love them and want them to know my love, but because at the end of the day – if the things I’m doing away from them doesn’t ultimately benefit them, it’s a waste of time.

When I was a child, my Dad would tell me why it was so important to love the work you did.

His basic premise was that if you’re going to be away from your family so much because of work, you better be doing something you love because nothing would be so insulting than to be away from them doing a job you hated.

That has stuck with me and while I’ve never hated any of the companies I’ve worked for – I’m always aware that once I have more bad days than good [or, in the case of Wieden, more bad polluted Shanghai days, than good] it’s probably time to start exploring what is out there that intrigues me.

Now, through a bunch of luck, these changes have come with greater titles and responsibilities … and I’ve never minded that, but it’s also never been my core motivation. Not because I don’t have ambitions, but I’ve always found the greatest joy being part of something that creates something.

I used to say that if I was to come back again, I’d love to be an architect because that way I could do work that outlived me … then I had my son.

Being a Dad has been one of the most amazing experiences in my life.

I’m ashamed to admit this was not something I was truly aware of, initially.

But now, thanks to the brilliance of my wife, I am able to see that I have helped bring something into the World that will outlive me. Something that can [hopefully] be testimony to the values we value and the things we love but with a life all of its own … a life that can grow and be shaped by the possibilities in the future we may never get to witness.

Which is why as much as I want a career that continues to creatively challenge and excite me at the highest level, my most important ambition is to be a husband and Dad that is present, engaged and full of love and support for the people at home.

It might have taken my wife and son to help me truly appreciate that, but I know my parents would be happy that I finally got there.



Happy Anniversary Mum & Dad …
March 28, 2018, 6:15 am
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Dad, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad

Today would have been my parents 54th wedding anniversary.

Fifty four years.

Incredible.

While there was the odd up and down, overall it was a relationship we should all aspire to having.

One where each other felt loved and supported.

Where they created the time and space for each other to explore their interests as well as to discuss them. Together.

It was a relationship built on closeness … closeness of values, closeness of communication, closeness of affection.

And the result was a wonderful childhood, where the bond between the three of us was watertight.

I hope they knew how grateful I was for it.

Because the older I get, the more I realise how lucky I was for it.

So to Mum and Dad – happy anniversary – I’m glad you’re together again.

Love you.

Rx

Comments Off on Happy Anniversary Mum & Dad …