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Today I woke up at 7, instead of the usual 6am alarm.
I had a bath, rather than stumble in for a super quick shower.
I had a long cuddle with my baby boy, rather than leave him asleep.
And then drove 40 minutes to start work here. Rather than a an hour to an hour and half.
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So much brand communication when it comes to food is all about family and groups. Yet about a third of adults in the UK are single. The obvious point is why this isn't looked at a little more.
Less obviously, even if you're attached in some way, there's some mileage in a conversation about eating alone.
Those nights when everyone else is out, you can do what you want. Might be read a good book, favourite DVD, telly of your choice or even playing music as loud as you want.
It also means you can eat what you want, make as little or much effort as you fancy (and time allows). The shape of the whole thing is different. There's the lovely, slightly wicked sense of indulgence.
It might be quick….a naughty cornish pasty, a ridiculously large fish finger sandwich (my record is 12 mashed between two soft slices of farmhouse bread), you can go straight to pudding with a microwave sponge or something.
Or you can take your time and make an effort on yourself. Personally, I love pottering in the kitchen, playing a CD, or maybe some Radio 4, sipping some wine. Here's a couple of things I like to cook on my own.
First off is a zingy, tingly pasta. My other half doesn't like food that's too hot while I love it. This only takes 20 minutes.
Boil a big handful of spaghetti it will take about 10 minutes. On the hob, put a good glug of olive in pan and put on the hob, add a knob of butter and when it's foaming, add 1 chopped garlic clove, a heaped teaspoon of chili flakes and a sprinkle of dried parsley, As soon as you can smell the cooking garlic, add a glass of wine and bring to the boil. Keep it warm until the pasta is boiled.
Then drain the pasta, tip in your chili wine mixture along with as many big, plump, tiger prawns as you fancy. Toss it together over the hob for thirty seconds and eat. I have at least one pitta bread with it, and stuff spoonfuls of pasta into it, but that's up to you.
Depending on how long I've got to myself, it will probably be eaten while watching an episode of The Thick of It, or really good film.
Second choice is a juicy steak sandwich. My other half isn't a steak fan. I love it
You'll need some good thick slices of bread of course, along with a steak that's at least an inch thick. Sod fillet, it's too expensive and has no fat…i.e tasteless. I suggest good sirloin or rib eye.
Slowly fry some chopped onions in olive oil, so they're brown and sticky sweet…it will take around 15 minutes. You must keep stirring or they'll catch and burn. Once they're done, fry your steak.
In pan, put in a table spoon of olive oil and a knob of butter, When it's foaming, put your steak in and press it down firmly. leave it for two minutes, then repeat in the other side. That should cook it medium. You'll know it's perfect when you press a finger onto the mean and springs back up.
Shove it in the buttered bread with the onions and whatever sauce you fancy. A purist would say mustard, but if you want ketchup or even brown sauce, it's your sandwich, have what the hell you like!
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I'm not sure it's the done thing to admit to, but I'm really looking forward to the final series of Lost. It begins on Friday. It's gone a little bonkers at times, but I've grown to love the characters, the maddening twists and the endless sub-plots.
Multi -stranded, multi-platform entertainment feels like the norm these days, and that's a good thing as explained here.
It's not that new though. At the start of the 90's before things got all clever, there were true pioneers.
I point you towards David Lynch and Twin Peaks, my favourite telly series ever. It was just so bonkers new and different. Multiple plot lines, working things out for yourself, group debates and conversations..it was all here.
Anyway, all this is just an excuse to present to you the man in the red suit…….
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Not long until I'm leaving. Funny situation a notice period. Can't start anything, letting go of other stuff bit bit. It's like sloughing off skin.
There's a lovely symmetry to my time here. It started with women's hair, loosely linked to fashion, very funny in the light of my lack of hair and even bigger absence of dress sense.
And that's what I'm finishing with (different brand). Hopefully in style (the project, not my clothes of course).
There's a few things I won't miss about TBWA, but there's lots I will. By things, I really mean the people, especially, but not limited to the planning department. Might introduce you to one or two in the next few days.
Here are the planners…
This is Dawn (or her film lookalike)
Dawn sits opposite me. If you pass our desk you'll either find her completely zoned out, tapping at her keyboard furiously, or exchanging cooking tips with me. She's a digital guru and one of the most hard working people I've met. She's also an ex suit and despite the best efforts of the planning department, still organised to the nearest nanosecond. Dawn did the best ever all agency meeting, with the possible exception of…….
Martin, but since he's a part time comedian, he had a slight advantage.
This also gives him a slight advantage as a planner, since he able to make natural observations about how people behave. Curiously, he hasn't told me one joke that has made me laugh, ah well. Martin doesn't just do comedy and planning, he's also a regular at kayaking and good enough to teach it too. Loves coffee, but knows how to make great tea in a warmed pot.
Helen's the quintessential planning archetype. Brighter than a brain pie, while so absent minded she's lost everything except herself. Car keys, purse, train ticket…she hold the record for number of agency mobile phones (probably)
She's also very kind and thoughtful and a brilliant planner.
She's also lent me her entire Haruki Murukami collection, which will take a while to wade through since my baby boy's just started teething.
We were in competition last year with our IPA papers (both got bronze) and ended up berating a taxi driver at 2am for failing to find us a bar still open. "Call this a 24 hour city, rubbish!" etc etc.
Stephen's very dry, arid. Is he joking? Does he really mean it? Who knows. When you know he's joking he's very funny, but don't ever start a conversation about the God Delusion. By his own admission, has developed a pretty good beatnik look – you sometimes expect him to spout post modern french poetry at you. Then it all changes, he crops the hair, trims the beard and looks quite scary. Ridiculous metabolism, eats for England, always stick thin.
Collectively, these are the people that sit in my corner and manage to make sure every day has some fun in it.
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It's Friday morning. One last push 'till the weekend. Can you feel the finish line?
Here's something to help us along…
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I've been thinking about the Tamagotchi Gesture for something or other to do with work.
I like the thought that 'by adding something that requires care and concentration we are nourished'.
That's so important in a world that's all about now, instant gratification and disposability.
I guess that's the point of making tea in the pot, or cooking properly rather than zapping something in a microwave.
It's also the point of swimming everyday. I can't find a better word that 'realness', 'being present'.
Anyway, funny how stuff that slows you down actually makes you better. That's why i reject computer mind-maps and planning as a linear process.
There's something about the squeak of marker on a letraset, or scratching away on a Moleskin that just works better. Maybe it's arranging post it notes on a board, but an organic, slightly chaotic process requires organic tools. And don't pretend planning isn't chaotic and hit and miss please, you know process is only there to justify fees and create the illusion of predictability….
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I've blathered on about tea here and there for quite a while now. I've even got shirty about tea advertising. And enough is enough. This is the last post about tea for a considerable time I hope.
First, here's an another observation about that Yorkshire Tea advertising. I stress, I have no idea about their data or objectives, but I have a view on how brands work. This advertisingflies in the face of everything I love about tea and especially Yorkshire Tea. This blog does a a far better job of capturing Yorkshire Tea-ness. Here's the guide to making the perfect cup, which I thoroughly endorse.
Once perpetual mistake I make is when I leave the pot to brew, manfully resisting the urge to stir and hurry it up, which would force tannins our and make it bitter. The curse of the absent minded means I start pottering on something and forget the pot. This can result in slightly tepid, over-stewed tea, which is mildly annoying. On the other hand, it's amazing what you can find yourself doing in the few minutes you wait, time you didn't think you had.
What tea means to me is this.
The ritual, the slowness, the rules, the attention to detail, the bubbles on the surface of the freshly brewed cup, the lovely comforting rich taste. It's a moment of slowness. In a world that seems to be always on, always something to think about, somewhere to be, tea is way of pressing pause button. That first cup doesn't just gird your loins for the day, it provides a last reminder of what really matters before the headlong rush into the 21st century re-commences (and the effect is amplified if the first cup is before 7am as someone has observed).
For me it inhabits the same world making my own pesto rather than the jar stuff, getting on the bike outside rather than in the gymn, writing a letter rather than an email or occasionally switching off the telly and just chatting. None of this stuff really matters, but at the same time it matters more than anything else in the world. Every day should have a good dose of realness, ritual and chance for reflection.
Pause.
That's what tea means to me.
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As discussed, I'm doing the Great North Swim this year. Entry all sorted etc, time for some serious training.
I wanted to do it to have a goal. I've let the training slip a little bit, I've coasted. Mostly because of time. Time to step things up.
Also, when I did swimming properly, I trained for shorter distances. I'm interested in how my body reacts to swimming really long distances.
And…I have a baby boy, that takes time, good to focus on one thing that will make me happy. Something for me (why can't I be an amateur film critic, would be so much easier no?)
In this case, it's not just the length, it's the cold, the currents and the waves. Luckily, I'll be in Cornwall at least twice this year, one visit will be the week before.
I'm aiming to do under 25 minutes (it's a mile). Not earth shattering, but not easy either.
I'll be resurrecting Tired is Stupid, but naturally some bits and bots will seep into this space.
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I'm in the middle of reading Andre Agassi's 'Open'. As you might expect. Apparently he wrote it himself and if so, that's amazing. It's a beautiful, tautly written book. Sport is so much more than the performance, it's a freakish, lonely life. This book captures that.
Anyway, at the heart of the book is a contradiction. He hated tennis but couldn't stop. 'I want this to be over' 'I'm not ready for this to be over'. I think this captures a truth that isn't just about sport, but about anything that's worth doing. It's conflicted and un-simple.
In George Orwell's 1984 we have double think. The idea of holding two contradictory arguments in your head at the same time. I think there's power in conflict and contradiction. There's real power in tension. Not the resolution of tension or conflict, as much of advertising tries to work to, but a fuzzy spot in the middle of both.
In sport, proper sport that requires pain and sacrifice, athletes at once love it and hate it. Pain brings joy, joy in effort etc. You want the pain to stop, but rejoice in forcing yourself to carry on. Every single training session is redemption and escape from your own personal limits. There is no joy without pain. They are two sides of the same coin and need to be allowed to co-exist.
This is true of so much in life. Most people in agencies for example at once hate it and love it. They hate the hours, the constant grind, the stress, the unpredictability. But they also love that stress, it makes them feel alive. It's addictive. And the effort and trial and tribulation make the end result so much sweeter. Even that's bitter sweet, there's nothing at once euphoric and sad as coming to the end of a book and having to start again. Much of agency life is like that, much of LIFE is like that.
Anyone that tells you that a having a baby is simple joy is offering falsehood. It's hard, stressful and restrictive. But there's an intense joy in that effort, doing something for someone else, at the mercy of your own instinctive need to care for your own flesh and blood. And amidst all that is the first smile, the first giggle and the holding him in your arms and just loving him.
Yep, there's power in contradiction, not necessarily in its resolution, sometimes (mostly) in NOt resolving it.
NORTHERN PLANNER 