Life in the middle

The way they should be.

George Moriarty is my kind of sportsman, and my kind of man. He was a baseball player in the early twentieth century, who went on to manage major league teams, and even umpire. But more importantly than that he thought very deeply about the game he played, how it should be approached, and what it meant to 'win'. He even wrote his thoughts down, forever. And those words are still there asking us all to think a little more than we might, and certainly a little more than the superstars of today do.

This is what he said.

THE ROAD AHEAD OR THE ROAD BEHIND

I think the fates must grin
as we denounce them and insist,
The only reason we can’t win
is the fates themselves have missed.

Yet, there lives on the ancient claim-
We win or lose within ourselves,
The shining trophies on our shelves can
Never win tomorrow’s game.

So you and I know deeper down
There is a chance to win the crown,
But when we fail to give our best,
We simply haven’t met the test

Of giving all and saving none
Until the game is really won.

Of showing what is meant by grit,
Of playing through not letting up,
It’s bearing down that wins the cup.

Of taking it and taking more
Until we gain the winning score

Of dreaming there’s a goal ahead,
Of hoping when our dreams are dead,
Of praying when our hopes have fled.

Yet, losing, not afraid to fall,
If bravely we have given all

For who can ask more of a man
Than giving all within his span.

That giving all, it seems to me,
Is not so far from VICTORY.

And so the fates are seldom wrong,
No matter how they twist and wind;
It’s you and I who make our fates,
We open up or close the gates

On the ROAD AHEAD or the ROAD BEHIND

A way ahead.

I spent a bit of time yesterday with my nephew, Wilf.

Here he is...

He's a pretty good little fella. He pulls his socks up high, wears a little red now and then, and is not afraid to experiment when it comes to his trouser wear. He seems to have a pretty smart approach to life too. Wandering around examining stuff (often by putting things in his mouth) and gazing at the world with a sense of awe. And if anyone tries to take things off him before he's ready to give them up, he moans (quite a bit).

It's life on his terms, and you have to admire that. I'm sure with age he'll learn that some of these things are not completely acceptable (you can't put other people's car keys in your mouth). But I hope he doesn't listen too much to convention. Or spend too long lapping up the orthodoxy of the day. I'll do all I can to encourage him to hang on to his sense of wonder, his desire to make himself happy, and his enormous sense of personal style.

As I sit here now, typing this post, looking at his smiling happy face, I'm tempted to follow his lead - to quit my job. Abandon the stresses and strains, the long hours, and the increasing sense of inevitable doom that the advertising industry is currently gripped with. And make a change. To do some thing else. Something I can do wearing long socks perhaps. But I'm reticent, I suspect I'll just make all the same mistakes again.

So, instead I'm going to create 'Wilf Hour'.

I'm going to reorder life a little. Bring the balance a little closer to where it needs to be. To do this I'm going to defy my own current belief that working in advertising will never make me healthier or more interesting as a person, or even allow me to do it outside of work because of the long hours and the pressured deadlines that are always hurtling towards you. From now on I'll dedicate one hour per day to trying to prove this hypothesis wrong.

The hour will be used simply - going to the gym, or taking a long bike ride, or perhaps a session of MMA. But it will also include some things I wouldn't normally do - the odd long walk around London, more trips to museums, that kind of thing. And a few things that I can't explain why I like, but I do, like sitting on a bench having a read of the paper, or mooching around a bookshop. Yes, they're good, so they'll be included as well.

So that's the plan. One hour a day. To be healthier. And more interesting. It's bound to be a bit of a fight, but if I don't try then I feel like I'd be letting little Wilf down.

One hour, it can't be that hard, can it?

The end of the beginning?

Up until now I've not really felt any effect from the credit crunch. I've gone about my business, shopping for the things I've always bought, eating out as often as I always have, and not been too worried about investing in yet another pair of red socks.

But for some reason today everything feels a little different. There is no reason that I can think of for why. Clients have been squeezing budgets for a while. People have been talking about how the industry is going to suffer for ages. But today I started feeling it, and began to panic a little. Obviously, that panic is somewhat irrational and will soon pass (I hope).

However, at the same time I do have a sense that things will never be the same - the advertising industry has to change or die, and much of it probably won't survive even if it does change. Hopefully we're well placed to make it through relatively unscathed, but you never know. And it's that unknown which is scary. Part of me can't help but wonder if I'll be reading this post one day having experienced what I'm most worried about - being jobless and broke - and look back with some morbid fascination. Maybe I should think about what that person would say to me if he could.

I think he might say...

Enjoy your work. But get in later and go home earlier.

Remember that the obsession with digital stuff, and interactive thinking, that has gripped the industry is only right half of the time. So embrace the half that's right, and fight the half that's not.

Be nice to people (including finance).

Don't worry too much about where the big stuff is heading, you don't know, and can't know that. Just do the right thing (you'll know it when you see it).

Don't spend so much on lunch.

Be brave. Bold. And do more things that scare you at work - that thing they call a 'comfort zone' is boredom in disguise.

Steal more stationery.

Try not to think too much about what a future jobless version of yourself might tell you do if he could talk to you. It's a bit weird. And I'm not sure it helps.

I'm not sure what happens next. I just hope that whatever the question is, that stolen stationery is the answer. We'll see.

I'm banned from the internet (even from my own blog).

Ah well, was nice while it lasted.

Goodbye.

APSotW - Closed.

Thanks to everyone who has entered the APSotW. I think there are about 17 entries, so it'll take me a week or so to work through them and to write the feedback, consult the gods, and declare a winner.

Until then, a very good morning to you all.

Account planning school of the web - deadline approaching!

Anyone who wants to submit an entry - here is the task. Any questions then give me a shout, otherwise I look forward to reading the entries.

Good evening.

My life is changing everyday.

They say the only thing in life you can rely on is change. And on the whole that's fine with me. I like the internet superhighway thingy-me-jig. I'm up for putting all my music in a shiny white device that I can hang around my neck, strap to my arm, or clip to my jacket. I even reckon that on the whole there is something nice about writing what you've been up to on a website, and inviting comment.

But sometimes I miss the way it used to be. When music was stacked in a messy pile against my bedroom wall, and no where else. When computers were for playing 'Horace Goes Skiing'. And the only place I was allowed to write was the school magazine (and only then if I managed to write a better report of the school French trip than Mark Hughes).

Those were the days. Now gone. But still partially retrievable when the right sound track presents itself. When you're least expecting it you can still go momentarily go back, back to a time when music came from shops, telephone calls away from home were made from big red boxes, and porn came from the 'marital aids' shop in Slough (apparently).

But that was then. This is now. And, but for those ocassional moments, that is that.

Account planning school of the web, my turn.

'The Account Planning School of the Web', I think most of you know what it is, but those of you who don't it's something Russell set up to help other planners, strategy people, or just anyone interested. It's designed to help them think about, and get feedback on, an issue pertinent to the planning process (Mum & Dad, planning is what I do for a living now). A problem or question is posed and then feedback given and winner announced after a month.

I judged it once before (results here), and very much enjoyed it. So I'm doing it again. The last couple, which were done by The Northern Planner, and Rob The Sod, were really interesting and anyone thinking of entering should not only read the previous assignments, but more importantly, should read the advice offered by the judges; you won't go far wrong if you listen to those two.

So, to the task. Quite a few of the assignments recently have been pretty technical; covering the essentials of planning. So I thought that I would deviate a little from core skills and focus instead on general thinking - that is to say - showing an interesting approach to tackling a problem. Finding that unique take on things is an important skill for a planner. It's the type of attribute that will make the people you work with want to spend 10 more minutes talking to you following a meeting. 10 more minutes chewing the fat with you in the pub after work. And it might just be the thing that gets you the job in the first place.

So the assignment is:

Tell me what you think could be done with the Extra brand (yes, the chewing gum one), and explain your reasoning?

I know this is open, but that's the point - the lack of boundaries. So if you come back and say you think they should bring out a new coconut flavour, then I'm not going to be that impressed. Think about it. It's a fascinating brand - so pervasive, yet so meaningless. Which I think makes it sort of interesting. So think beyond chewing gum.

The deadline is in one month (please send them to paul5458@hotmail.com), let's say the 12th December, in powerpoint or pdf, no more than 10 slides.

I should probably add that I know nothing about the category, so I'll be judging the assignments based on how interesting they are, as opposed to how 'right' they are.

Any questions then mail me or leave a comment. Otherwise, good luck.

Oh yeah, and the winner will get a copy of the new Steven Pinker book, The Stuff Of Thought.

Update: I couldn't find it earlier, but here is some really useful thinking and tips in the feedback that Gareth gave on the assignment he judged - top stuff.

Bucharest.

I spent the last couple of days in Bucharest, Romania, and was struck by what an odd relationship the people of the city have with the space itself. It is almost as if they treat it as their property - their house, with which they will do as they please.

They park on it.

They let it fall into terrible disrepair.

They cover it in posters.

They draw on it.

They put off calling the electrician.

And they fill it with trinkets that you can't help feeling only still find a place because of sentiment.

An odd and interesting place, no doubt. But more importantly, and most excitedly, I discovered that Romania is in fact the home of the Tankard. Look at these little puppies that I clocked while out for dinner. Maybe they've ignored doing anything to the city over the last 978 years, and instead focussed all their time and national resources on owning the global tankard market.

Handsome beasts aren't they? No matter what you say about the Romanians, they've forgotten more about tankards than we'll ever know.

So next time you're in Bucharest say hello from me, ask them to give the old place a lick of paint, and admire their tankard action.

Salut (as they say in Romania when greeting each other, and I said when I couldn't think of anything else to say).

Park life.

I do like a bit of lunchtime park action. Slipping away to chew on something while lounging on the grass. Stretching out, breathing deeply, and taking some sun on the face. Good things happen. Lunch gets longer. Beer tastes colder. London gets quieter. Conversation gets longer, more interesting, but never stressed. Sunbathers eek out every last drop of sunlight as dogs sniff away at the day. You can watch the middleness and ordinariness of life, all around you, ticking over, up and down, over and out. Then the merry-go-round starts again.

It's on these small days that life tastes best.