Yes, it’s Monday.
Yes, that means it’s the beginning of another week.
Another week of meetings, late nights and ridiculous demands.
And while I appreciate a picture of me normally would only make things worse, the fact I’m with my wonderful son can only make everyones Monday much, much better.
So thank you Otis, you make every day for me a whole lot brighter.
Even Mondays.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Childhood, Comment, Culture, Daddyhood, Education, Emotion, Empathy, Family, Innocence, Insight, Jill, Otis, Parents
I cry.
I cry a lot.
I cry at films.
I cry at memories.
I cry at just how much I love Otis.
Now I appreciate that’s not the sort of thing you should admit, but that’s what I want to change.
I get why it happens.
From the moment we are kids, we are told not to cry.
To be fair, it’s less to do with any sense of parental embarrassment and more to do with parents hating seeing their precious child being upset, but in my opinion, it’s still wrong.
But it gets worse.
Especially for little boys.
I cannot tell you how many times I’ve heard a Dad tell their little man who has fallen over …
“Big boys don’t cry”.
I totally appreciate they’re not saying it to be mean, but I can’t help but worry for what we are teaching the men of tomorrow.
Especially in America.
I was lucky, I was brought up in a household that didn’t try to hide emotions.
I was taught it was healthy and was encouraged to express how I felt.
Now I know that was pretty rare, but fortunately for everyone else, there was the local pub.
The pub was more than a place for drinking, it was a place for men to express their feelings.
Sure, they did it through banter and jokes, but it was where you could reveal your feelings and fears to other men in an environment that was, ironically, none threatening and none judgemental.
I have no idea if that’s still the case but I know in America it’s not.
Here, you don’t go to a bar to talk, you go to a bar to sit with other men and watch sports.
There appears little outlet for men to express their feelings which means either the pressure of situations add up to unbelievable levels or the response to situations is disproportionate or overly aggressive and confrontational.
OK, so not everyone is like that, but until we teach our children – and especially our little boys – that crying is actually the act of someone strong rather than weak, then we are going to continue stopping people knowing how to navigate the challenges and frustrations that fill our lives. Or said another way, we’ll be stopping our kids from being able to be as good as they can be … which is a crime no parent wants to ever be accused of doing.
Which is another thing we could all learn from the values taught at Otis’ school.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Anniversary, Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Confidence, Culture, Death, Emotion, Empathy, England, Happiness, Health, History, Insight, NHS, Otis, Parents, Paul, Social Divide
The NHS is 70 years old this year.
While that is a remarkable age, it blows my mind there was a time when it didn’t exist.
The story of its foundation is a remarkable one … one filled with foresight, fight and a governments desire to raise the standards, dreams and potential of an entire nation.
Whether we will ever see something of such audacious good from a government anywhere in the World is debatable.
Obamacare may have come close, but thanks to America’s blinkered fear of socialism [despite having one FBI for example], it means its potential has been destroyed by that criminal, also known as The President of the United States of America.
And all the Republican sheep.
But back to the NHS.
Despite having not lived in England for 24+ years, it’s been a quiet partner throughout my life.
Helping me deal with some of the best and worst times of my life.
And even though there was a time I grew to despise walking along the corridors of the QMC hospital in Nottingham, I was always grateful for it … because it ensured the people I loved weren’t allowed to fall through the cracks at their greatest hour of need.
The NHS has saved my parents life, saved my sight, looked after my dear Paul when he’s undertaken acts of complete stupidity, taken care of my son when he came down with an illness [despite not yet having a British passport] and ensured my parents were given dignity in their final days … it is the single most important and valuable institution the UK has.
I’ve been incredibly fortunate to have lived all around the World and while there have been a number of occasions where I have needed the urgent and serious attention of Nurses and Doctors, I’ve paid heavily for that service.
Of course I’m grateful for all they did for me – they were excellent – but I was also in a privileged position where I could afford to pay for it which is why the NHS is so important because the reality is, everyone deserves the right to being looked after, not just those with a healthy bank balance.
Countless UK governments have tried to undermine or strip away the NHS … seemingly ignorant to the fact it’s one of the few things that is the envy of the World and should be treasured, not pillaged.
So to everyone who has ever worked for or fought for the NHS, thank you.
You deserve so much more than just a nations gratitude.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Daddyhood, Jill, My Fatherhood, Otis
I’ve written a lot about how amazing I am finding fatherhood.
It is beyond my expectations in every sense of the word.
Of course, a big part of that is my son is a wonderful, kind, considerate and caring little boy.
But there’s something more … and that’s witnessing his development at every stage.
As much as I want him to stay my little boy forever, each stage of his growth reveals new and wonderful traits … which helps me deal with the fact he is growing up way too fast.
One of the big changes is his vocabulary.
I remember how much I loved it when he could only use sounds to communicate.
It was so pure and innocent and yet he could convey so much of his feelings through those little sounds.
Then came the words.
At first they were a hybrid of mumble and language … but over time, he could say Dada and Mama and it melted our hearts.
But now, his language is developing at a rapid rate and while so much of what he says is his brain connecting what he communicate with the context he [so far] understands, it leads to expressions of such beauty – and sadness – that you are left breathless for hearing it.
Don’t believe me?
Look at this SMS I got from Jill a while back …
Sure, when he say’s, “the drips of my sadness” he is being literal with what they are, in the context of the words he knows … but my god, the emotions those words ignite is incredible.
Maybe we are educating the emotional expression out of children like Sir Ken Robinson said we are doing with creativity.
Either way, I love that kid more and more.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Creativity, Culture, Daddyhood, Imagination, Innocence, Insight, Otis
Recently I bought Otis a Viewmaster.Yes, the old-school, red plastic, binocular thing where circular slides transport you to different places and Worlds.
When I was a kid, I bloody loved it.
I remember traveling around the World via Viewmaster.
The first time I saw the Taj Mahal was on there.
The first time I visited America was on there.
The first time I watched wild animals in their natural habitat was on there.
Of course this was a very long time ago, so it was probably more because of nostalgia than anything else that I wanted Otis to have one.
And you know what … he loved it.
Despite being a fully fledged member of the digital age, that piece of old school – with no virtual reality, moving pictures or interactivity – captured his imagination.
He told me stories about all the fish he went swimming with.
Who all the dinosaurs were and what they were doing.
And how all the wild animals were friends and liked playing in dirt.
Don’t get me wrong, the technology of today is an amazing thing to help kids learn and explore, but the beauty of Viewmaster – like the beauty of all great igniters of imagination, from books to even the odd ad – is that it allows people to impose their own will on the images and stories they see and hear … allowing them to go to places only they could ever imagine.
In essence, igniting others imagination allows them to ignite possibilities in things that are all around us and for me, that’s super exciting and why I’m so glad a toy created in 1942 still has a valuable role the lives of kids in 2018.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Birthday, Daddyhood, Emotion, Family, Friendship, Immaturity, Jill, Jillyism, Love, My Fatherhood, Otis, Parents, Paul, Rosie, Shelly
I’m writing this from Berlin where it is already the 15th June.
This is important because today and tomorrow are the birthday’s of 2 of the most important people in my life.
My beloved wife, Jill.
My beloved best mate, Paul.
While I’m sure they’re happy I’m in Europe on their special day, I know I cannot imagine my life with either of them not in it, which is why I want to mark the occasion with this post.
[Which is also cheaper than a present, despite the fact I’m sure being away from them on their birthdays is the best present of all]
Paul has been there since 4 days after I was born.
Causing me trouble, mischief and immense amounts of laughter.
Literally pretty much every memory I have in my life involves him.
Every. Single. One.
From first days at pre-school, school and college.
Concerts, booze and accidents.
Girls, games and gigs.
You name it, we have shared – and been there for each other – at every significant high and low in life.
Whether that’s being a shoulder to cry on or a person to point at and laugh ourselves stupid at.
Plus he is the only other person I knew when I was growing up that had a Philips G7000.
Paul is, quite simply, someone I absolutely and wholeheartedly regard as family.
Truly.
I am a better and happier person for him [and the wonderful Shelly] being in my life.
So to my dear, wonderful idiot of a friend, I wish you an amazingly brilliant and immature birthday tomorrow. May it be filled to the brim with immaturity and stupidity, which – let’s be honest – we both know it will.
And then there’s my Jilly.
My wonderful, kind, considerate, beautiful, funny, smart Jilly.
What she is doing with me is anyone’s guess.
From the moment I met her 14 years ago, she has been the one.
More than that, she has been my support system … holding my hand and giving encouraging words of support as we have embarked on a ridiculous journey together.
Different countries. Different challenges. Different adventures.
She’s never complained.
Never demanded anything.
She’s embraced every situation and made it something we can look back on with happiness.
Even those points where I was convinced I’d led us astray, she has backed us to come out the other side and we have.
She is insanely talented, creative and just plain wonderful.
And while everyone who meets her recognises how special she is, they often misunderstand one thing.
She is strong.
Stronger than most people I know.
Not just because she puts up with me, but because there’s not many people who would move countries to be with someone they had only met a 6 weeks earlier.
But she did.
Because she felt it was worth it.
Which means she felt I was worth it … which is utterly incredible.
I’ve written before about her unbelievable levels of compassion, support and love.
How it took me some time to come to terms with the fact I had met someone who wanted to take away any pain or troubles I had in my life.
Not just say it, but actually want to do it.
And she did and does … whether it’s the way she gently consoled me as I tried to deal with the tragic loss of my Mum or simply being the person I turn to when I feel lost or unsettled.
As much as I always felt my life was pretty great, things became infinitely better when Jill came onto the scene.
Then she raised the game by giving birth to our beloved Otis.
I always knew Jill was going to be an amazing Mum, but she does it in ways that continues to inspire and blow my mind at the same time.
The way she focuses on what he needs not what others say he should need.
The way she is teaching him to be a good person, not just a good boy.
The way she fiercely protects who he is when others are quick to judge.
And the result is an amazing, cheeky, pink-adoring, kind, chinese-speaking, curious, creative, mischievous, broom-sweeping, loving, Bez-dancing little boy who I literally couldn’t love anymore.
Not a single milligram more.
Which ultimately means I couldn’t love Jill anymore.
Not a single bit.
She makes the best days better and the worst days, less dark … whether that’s a well timed moment of love or an act of Jillyism brilliance.
I don’t know what I have done to deserve her.
I don’t know if I will ever be able to describe how much I love her.
I don’t know if I will ever be able to do enough to show how much I adore her.
But I’ll keep trying, because as much as this was an amazing present … she’s the best gift I could ever receive.
Happy birthday my darling Jilly, I love you so much.
Rx
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Goodbye America, Otis
Yes, that’s Otis and his mates coming back from a day at the water park.
I feel like that but I haven’t spent all day at the water park.
I spent all weekend organising stuff for our move to London.
Given how many times we’ve moved countries, this shouldn’t be so hard … but then, this is the first time I’ve lived in a country where all the electronics we bought here won’t work in the country we are moving to, so a bunch of American’s are getting the deals of their lives.
Not that I’m bitter.
Oh no.
I absolutely love seeing my money go down the bloody drain.
Yes, I know this is all my fault, but I’m choosing to ignore that right now, thank-you-very-much.