Good chefs.

Cook good food that lots of people might like.

Great chefs.

Cook food that they themselves like.

That a select few then get to taste and fully appreciate.

Cook For Yourself.

In a recent story I wrote.

I made the comment that ‘technique’ always second plays second fiddle to ‘attitude’.

And this is a great example of how that works.

In real life.

Filip Fasten.

Filip Fasten is Sweden’s most famous chef.

Filip won Swedish Chef of The Year in 2014.

And here’s something I heard Filip say in an interview.

Something that stayed with me:

I am cooking for myself.

And the guests get to taste my food.

Filip said this in passing.

Didn’t bat an eyelid.

And carried right on chatting.

Filip’s Food. 

So there you go.


I think.

Always second plays second fiddle to ‘attitude’.

Do I want to taste Filip’s food?

That he is cooking for himself?

Over the cook that cooks good food that lots of people might like?

Too bloody right.

Here’s a simple story.

Of a simple conversation.

About simplicity.



That thing you came up with for that client.

It looks so simple.

It looks like you haven’t even thought about it.


There’s a really simple reason.

Why it looks so simple.

So simple that it looks like I haven’t even thought about it.

It’s because I have.

The End.

There is another world.

If you choose to visit.

And it is amazing.


I visited quite recently.

By accident.

I hadn’t planned to go.

It just happened.

And you could visit too.

You could visit as soon as tomorrow.


I awoke at 3.45am.

I don’t know why.

I just did.

Izobel was clinging onto my arm.

And it is of course amazing when your children do that.

But after a few moments I got up.

And that’s when I discovered it.

Another world.

Just Me.





I broke the silence with the click…hiss of a kettle.

The rustle of some packaging or other.

And the snap-snap of the toaster.


It was silent again.

With heavy butter melting on sourdough toast.

With a huge mug of tea and its curling steam tail.

With the opportunity to think.

Without my computer.

Without my phone.

Just me.

Another World.

There is another world.

If you choose to visit.

And it is amazing.

I can’t remember where I heard this.

I didn’t imagine it.


I heard someone say it.

And I do remember thinking how true I thought it was.

And therefore how important it is to let our minds be free.

To roam.

To invent.

To imagine.

Without fear.

Here’s what I heard:

A moments imagination.

Beats a lifetime of experience.

When an artist starts repeating themselves.

Because they think that’s what people want.

It’s all over.

That’s what Thom says about art.

And it’s what I say about business.


Here’s Thom Yorke on Desert Island Discs.

Extended version.

It is early morning.

Or lunchtime.



Background listening.


Two weeks ago.

A friend of mine.


Helped me to answer a question.

Even though it’s a question I didn’t actually ask him.

Even though Ian was relaying something to me that Geoff said to him.

And even though I myself wasn’t aware that this exact question resided in my head.

The Question.


Here’s the question that Ian helped me to answer:

Why are most people’s LinkedIn updates so bloody boring?


This question must have been hiding in my unconscious.



Bubbling away unanswered.

Because when Ian said this to me,

You know what Geoff said to me, Mychael.

And Geoff really is very good at storytelling.

Geoff said this.


Geoff said.

“Whenever you tell a tale.”

“Never make yourself the hero of your own story.”

And that was that.

That’s what Ian said to me.

That Geoff had said to him.

Boring Bloody LinkedIn.

Most people’s LinkedIn updates are really bloody boring.

And I think that this is why.

They make themselves the hero of their own story.

And when this happens.

The writer is not really writing for you and me.

They are not gifting me anything useful or interesting.

They are chest beating.

They are writing for themselves.


So if you want to stop being really bloody boring on Linkedin.

Or at least to make a step in the right direction.

Do this.

Never make yourself the hero of your own story.

Thank you to Big Ian Donaghy, and Geoff Ramm.

I still find it so, so flattering.

When anybody.


Buys anything from any brand I’ve ever built.


The feeling I had with that very last sale.

Just a moment ago.

It’s the exact same feeling I had with the very first sale.


The worst way I measure my time.

Is by how much money it can earn me.

Which is strange.

Because in all of my 30’s.

And most of my 40’s.

I did very little else.

The Journey.


I get it.

Working and saving.

But not too much.

Not all the time.

Because when we’re working and saving.

We’re focussing on the fuel.

And it’s not the fuel that matters most.

It’s not the fuel that we remember.

It’s not the fuel we love.

It’s the journeys.

Those mornings when I pour whole coffee beans straight into the cafetière.

Sending a hundred of them clitter-clattering against the glass.

Or ricocheting like little brown bullets beneath the microwave.

Bypassing the coffee grinder completely.

I need to avoid mornings like that.

Mornings like that are not good for me.


I freeze when this happens.

The coffee bean thing.

I freeze like a statue.

Staring first at the mis-housed beans.

Staring second at the bag I poured the beans from.

As I hold the bag static.

Chest high.

In disbelief.

I need to avoid mornings like that.

Mornings like that are not good for me.


It feel split in two whenever this happens.

The coffee bean thing.

I feel split between being in the kitchen.

Fucking up coffee.

And somewhere else quite different.

Worrying, no doubt.

Drifting off.

Overthinking a money thing.

Or a house thing.

Or an Izobel thing.

I need to avoid mornings like that.

Mornings like that are not good for me.


The scenario itself is funny, of course.

Me swearing.

Growling under my breath.

Squeezing fat, clumsy finger-tweasers into vessels and under toasters to get the whole beans back to the coffee grinder to meet their crumbly demise.

But why it happened is not funny.

Because to fully enjoy my coffee.

I need to concentrate on coffee.

Thinking only of coffee.

Smelling only coffee.

Tasting only coffee.

Not polluting the all-important multi-sensory minutiae with uninvited troublesome thoughts.

I need to avoid mornings like that.

Mornings like that are not good for me.

I get Jenny Curran.

I understand.

Jenny Curran.

I get Jenny Curran.

Because I myself am sometimes like Jenny Curran.

Frustrated by my own limitations.

Excited by the unknown.

Convinced I’m missing out.

Convinced I can do better.

Convinced I deserve better.

Attracted to danger.

Self-destructive, even.

Prone to ruining what I have.

Even when knowing what I have.

Is the best that I have ever had.

I get Jenny Curran.

Because I myself am sometimes like Jenny Curran.

All Bad.

No one is all bad though.

I am kind and loving.

Clear minded.

Interesting and warm, I’m told.

Fun, bright and engaging from time to time, too.

As was Jenny.

And these are some of the reasons why.

Despite her faults.

From the day she went away.

To the day she eventually decided to come home.

Forrest loved her.