My daughter is still quite young.

Very young, actually.

Izobel is five years old.

I avoided the inevitable with Izobel for the first four years of her life.

And I impressed myself!

But recently, the inevitable happened.

Izobel, somehow, became aware of their existence.

And whilst her awareness of them has not transformed her life or mine, it has impacted the narrative – just a little bit – each time she and I leave the house.

This includes buzzing to the shops, longer trips to local towns or any family holiday at all. None of these will ever be the same.

It was McDonald’s first.

Then Burger King.

Probably because McDonald’s outnumbers Burger King by almost three-to-one in the UK.

But today, at five years old, Izobel is aware of both.

McDonald’s and Burger King.

All things in moderation, and all that.

The occasional trip to one or other of these two fast food giants is probably OK for Izobel, and indeed any five-year-old.

And it was something Izobel said and did whilst at one of these restaurants that has inspired this little tale.


One Saturday, just before a very expensively ticketed trip to see ‘Wrestlemania’ in Newcastle, five-year-old and I Izobel had an hour to kill in Newcastle city centre.

Izobel was hungry.

And what I allowed to happen next was very unusual in that I had never allowed it to happen before.

Basically, Izobel and I did not visit McDonald’s or Burger King.

We visited both.

The Two Burger Bar Strategy.

Hungry, five year old Izobel had her usual plain cheeseburger.

First in McDonald’s.

Then another in Burger King.

I’ll explain my strategy.

The Two Burger Bar Strategy as I now to call it.


Imagine me leaning-in to you as I let you in on my thinking.

Imagine me checking left, then right, before saying a word.

Then imagine me eventually looking you straight in the eye, speaking in hushed tones, and confiding in you…)


I’d whisper.

“These two burgers.

99p each.

One hotdog at the stadium.

Eight quid.



(Then imagine me tapping the right side of my nose with my right forefinger, as I slowly lean back and raise my eyebrows as if I’d just explained how I’d closed the best business deal of my life).

Anyhow, this Two Burger Bar Strategy raised a spontaneous question for me.

Which did Izobel prefer?


Or Burger King?

McDonald’s or Burger King?

Izobel, up until then, always preferred McDonald’s.

Better toys, apparently.

And a nicer looking bun.

But something happened on that particular day that swung things the other way.

Something happened at Burger King that made Izobel light up, and defect.

From McDonald’s.

To Burger King.


As Izobel sat in Burger King, she looked down at her cheeseburger.


After thinking for a while, between her carefully pincered thumb and forefinger, she plucked one of the seeds from the top of the burger bun.

This is something Izobel could never do in McDonald’s of course, as McDonald’s buns don’t have seeds.

Izobel then held the single seed up to my gaze, and said this,


Izobel began.

“I would like to grow a burger.

So when we get home, I would like to plant this seed please.

And I will water it.

I know what to do because we’re doing it at school.

I like this burger.

And I would like to grow another.


Izobel’s eyes didn’t move from mine as she waited for a response.

I had a decision to make.

And after a few seconds, not wanting her to be disappointed, I spoke,



It doesn’t quite work like that.”

I said.

“I am not sure that this or any seed will grow into a burger.

It’s just not the way it works.”

Izobel blinked.


Her eyes staying fixed on mine.

And she blinked again.


“That’s OK,”

Said Izobel eventually,

“I’ll plant it anyway.”

The Other Side of Crazy.

Most of our lives.

Most of the people we meet will, with closed eyes, a snigger and a slow shake of the head, tell us that the seeds we want to plant won’t grow into what we want them to.

And that’s a shame.

Because to get to the truly great ideas, we almost always have to take a clear and stubborn route through the crazy ideas.

Because that’s where I think great is.

On the other side of crazy.

‘Crazy’ being free-flowing thinking, judgement-free blurting and boundaryless, adventurous concept creation.

The main reason that people close their eyes, snigger, slow-shake their head and tell us that the seeds we want to plant won’t grow into what we want them to, is because most people live in the world of the probable.

Rather than the world of the possible.

They are basing likely outcomes on what has gone before.

And where is the adventure in that?

Life Is An Adventure

Do something. Get something.

Do something. Get something.

Do something. Get something.

That’s the way so many people live their lives.

“If I probably do this.

I’ll probably get that.”

Little loops of investment and return.

And it’s oh so very, very boring.


Just ‘DO something’.

To see what happens.

Enjoy the journey.

Enjoy the adventure.

The journey and the adventure teach us so much more than a boring input/output approach to life.

Life is an adventure!

So treat it as such.

But Then Again. What Can A Five Year Old Teach Us?

The counter to this?

Well, the counter of course is, what can a five-year-old teach us about any of this?

What can a five-year-old teach us about how to live our lives?

And what the heck does a five-year-old know about how burgers are made?

Burger King burgers are butchered from cows!

Except of course – as a lovely couple’s conversation as they were entering Burger King and Izobel and I were leaving Burger King remind me – they’re not.

“Ah there they are Claire.

Up there on the menu.

I’ve heard about those.

Let’s try one.

The Impossible Whopper.

They’re made from plants, you know.”

Plant the Seed.

It looks like Izobel was right, then.

About two things.

First, you can grow burgers from seeds.

And she got another thing right too.

For herself, for me, and for everybody.

What five year old Izobel said to me on that day really is worth remembering.

No matter what anybody says to you.

“I’ll plant it anyway”.

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.