NORTHERN PLANNER

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  • 10 ways life is different with a baby

    Sorry to be boring, a Dad post again. Cannot resist…

    1. You love his Mum more, even you thought that wasn't possible. Something about seeing them together…..

    2. You understand your own father a little more.

    3. Out of what you have time for, you get really good at editing what is a luxury and what is necessary and prioritise accordingly.

    4. Out of those luxuries, you re-realise what you REALLY enjoy and what filled the time. For example, my Saturday my bike ride is essential. The Thick of It is essential. Reading the Guardian from cover to cover is not.

    5. Talking to women becomes easy – just talk about the baby.

    6. You are re-aqauainted with being so tired you can sleep through VERY loud noise (like the maxiumum volume on the alarm).

    7. Work becomes both less and more important. Less because it's just making transient stuff that doesn't change the world. More because it pays for nappies.

    8. You look at the the things you've done/not done and regret/celebrate accordingly, in full knowledge there will be little chance to do again/for the first time for quite a while.

    9. Mum calls more.

    10. It's better.

  • By the way………

    Speaking of cadence, (see above and below depending on how you're reading this) with a new baby, the only cadence is that there isn't one. After extended parental leave, I can report that my boy is is beautiful, fit and healthy and I hate being away from him.

    I can also report that this blog won't be passing into the realms of the undead just yet. Little and often my well be the way forward…..

  • Cadence and leaving things in reserve for sport (and the day job)

    When you're a serious athlete you live a life of no half measures. Every training session is flat out (until you're tapering down for competition), there is no challenge, no pain or suffering that has not been addressed by the time the big day comes.

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    That was my life for a while, and it was appropriate for then. But that kind of approach is not sustainable when you start to live life as an ordinary mortal. I still train pretty hard..and more often than is strictly normal, but different.

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    And I think that difference is all about cadence and rhythm. Proper athletes build up a terrifying momentum, day in, day out, giving it all. It really hurts at first, and then you hit a groove. The pain doesn't go away, but it becomes manageable, joyful in many ways. The momentum is there, you're on your way, and once the cadence is there, on you go. That's why injury is such a problem, it's not just missing on precious training time, it's having to find your rhythm again.

    There's a different rhythm to training for ordinary mortals. At least for me – I can't work to utter exhaustion day in-day out anymore. If that happens, it's so much harder the next day. What seems to work is still working extremely hard, joy in effort, in pain…all that. But now I keep something back. There's an art in going very far, but not too far. That little bit left is kept in reserve for next time, and then the time after that and so on. And a new rhythm emerges.

    I think there is something in this for all sorts of things. Especially working in an agency. Let's face it, while it's not coal mining or nursing, it's not the easiest of jobs. We work long hours and we work hard. You find your own way of navigating this – mine tends to be coming in extremely early and leaving relatively reasonably. But on top that, working flat out just leaves you with burnout, and doing bad work.

    So once again, push yourself, don't be happy with alright or good enough, enjoy the late night pitch buzz. We're all this because we like ideas, we like the colour, we enjoy a bit if stress. But every day, just try and leave a little bit in reserve. Build up your rhythm, know each night when you leave you have just a little bit left. It puts you in good stead when you have to pull one of those all nighters and, in the end, you'll be better at your job.

  • Manchester

    Being a Yorkshireman it can be uneasy reconciling working in Manchester, we're a little past the War of the Roses, but there is always that sliver of tension. If you live down South, you might not understand –  it's just 'Oop North', but to us, well, we don't get along.

    Truth be told though, I love Manchester. It has so much that my beloved Leeds doesn't. More grandeur, more heritage, more history…more.

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    Despite developing into a thoroughly modern city, a lifetime away from the place represented in 'Life on Mars', it's beating heart remains the same. A fiery pride that borders on arrogance, balanced by an upbeat, irreverent, almost cheeky spirit – unflappable in the face if whatever life wants to throw at it.

    There's an amazing brew that marries all the history and heritage with a very progressive, modern and, forgive me me for the overused word, 'cool'.

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    Here we're looking at the Northern Quarter, a vast, sprawling collection of independent bars, places to eat, shops and flats you won't find anywhere except for Shoreditch or Camden or bits of Soho. Bit this is Manchester, so there's non of the self awareness or trying too hard. It just is. It's also wonderfully seedy.

    And here's the thing I don't understand about Manchester. It has so much to be proud of, yet mostly what we hear is the football and the all the bands (most who are now a little like Oasis The Stone Roses or the Charlatans). Don't misunderstand me,  New Order and Joy Division are as good as it gets, while no one has a deeper or more abiding passion for The Smiths than I, but there's so much more to be proud of.

    There's the birth of the feminism, the cradle of The Co-operative movement, the inspiration for Marxism, Shelagh Delaney, The Guardian and that's just for starters.

    I'd like Manchester to show a face to the outside world that a little more than Corrie, the football teams and bands with floppy haircuts and funny walks (much as I'd like Yorkshire to revel in its 'Ayup, like what we say, say what we bloody like' character a little less).

  • He’s coming home

    Will is coming home tomorrow.

    My thoughtful boss has bought me this book.

    Raising boys

    If there was a book written for Dad's who are planners, it must be this one.
     

  • Meet William David Andrew Hovells

    Will week 1 142 He was born last week. 48 hours after Juliette's waters broke. In those two days, I managed to get food poisoning and he managed to pick up an infection.

    So 8 hours after he was born, he was taken from his mother and placed in the high dependency unit. Poor lad has had a hard week, he struggled to breathe and had to be put on a glucose drip. Apart from us not being able to take him him home, his grandparents, Aunts, Uncles and cousins haven't been able to meet him yet. But he's on the mend how, right now he'll be sleeping peacefully in the arms of his mother in hospital.

    We've spent most of the week there, changing him, talking to him and holding him. He should be home by the weekend and I cannot wait. There are no words to describe what it feels like to be a Dad. I love him very much.

    By the way, I've bathed him and he loves the water, looks like he'll be a swimmer….

    Will week 1 160

      
    Will week 1 189

  • Off for a while

    I sincerely promise I won't be turning this quiet corner of the web into a Dad blog. No one's going to be interested in that stuff (or slightly less interested than the usual rubbish that appears here I should say).

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    So this is the 'last post but one' post on the imminent baby. The last one will be the one and only picture of the newly born nipper with name, date of birth, and weight. It hasn't been asked it of wants to be online, it can't answer yes or no, so it won't be.

    It was due yesterday, could come anytime, I can't concentrate anyway, so I'm off for awhile. Next post I'll be a Dad.

    Byee.

  • Arriving, The Eurostar and airlines

    I got the Eurostar to Brussels in August for something or other to do with work. 100_3996 
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    It was smooth, convenenient, no hassle, no massive check in problems. But something was missing. There isn't the sense of 'leaving' and 'arriving' you get from airports and planes. It's just one train station to another. 

    When you arrive at another airport, there's usually that small walk to the building, or the coach that will take you there. Different light, different landscape, signs, language, theatre, magic, execitement. If you're going somewhere hot, there's that elusive smell of very warm air you don't get where I live.

    I'm not convinced you can really talk about an enjoyable experience of actually flying, not for mass market anyway, but I don't know why airlines don't talk about arriving a little more. 

    By the way, another time I might bash on about the joys of working with the Brussels TBWA office and remembering how good true media/engagement planners are.

  • True and sobering

    The longer I live the more the things my Dad says make sense

  • Making things

    The wall brought something back that had been dormant for a fair while, something not quite lost, missed without missing it, like when something reminds you of a dead relative you dearly loved.

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    Making stuff, creating things, expressing yourself. I used to love art, I used to be really good at painting and drawing, but then I just stopped.

    That's why I grew up to love cooking things. It's making something. Feeling alive,joy in doing.

    So, despite this is a really bad time to start another project, I'm going to look for something els arty  to do. Don't expect a Turner, but this will be just for me, quality will be irrelevant.