Flying the nest

This weekend, I experienced what I suspect will be a profound moment in my life – I helped my eldest son to fly the family nest and move into his own home. The experience made me reflect on the nature of change and the importance of recognising when it’s time to embrace new chapters in life and career. My eldest son moved into his own home the same month the world saw President Biden acknowledge that he should stand down from the US election. Both events, though vastly different, share a common theme: the right time to accept change.

Seeing my son step into his new home filled me with a mix of pride and nostalgia (and yes, a few tears were shed). It’s a monumental step, signifying his transition into true adulthood. For years, he has prepared for this moment— saving diligently, learning to budget, buying useful items, and making plans. As a parent, it’s a bittersweet milestone. We nurture our children, provide them with guidance, and support them until they’re ready to fly solo. When that moment arrives, it’s both a validation of our efforts and a poignant reminder that change is constant and inevitable. I am going to miss waving him off to work in the mornings – he always left the house earlier than me. However, as the saying goes: If you truly love something, let it go. On a more positive note, I am glad not to be loading up and driving a transit van again this week.

On a broader stage, President Biden’s decision to step down from the upcoming election is a pivotal moment in political leadership. Leadership is not just about knowing how to govern but also understanding when to pass the baton. President Biden’s tenure has been marked by significant achievements and challenges. His decision to not run is a testament to his self-awareness and commitment to the greater good. It’s an acknowledgment that new leadership might bring fresh perspectives and renewed energy, essential for addressing future events.

These two occurrences prompted me to think about the right time to accept change in life and career. Here are a few reflections:

1.     Self-awareness: Understanding your strengths, limitations, and the context around you is crucial. Whether it’s moving out, like my son, or stepping down from a role, like President Biden, recognising when your current path no longer aligns with your goals or the needs of those you serve is key.

2.     Preparation and Planning: Change is less daunting when it’s planned. My son’s move was the result of years of preparation (if his lawyer had had any more involvement, it might even now still be an on-going project). Similarly, effective career transitions often come from thoughtful planning and readiness to embrace new opportunities.

3.     Courage to Let Go: It takes courage to let go of the familiar. For my son, it was the comfort of home – laundry, cleaning, a full fridge all laid on; for President Biden, it’s the power and responsibility of leadership. Embracing change often means stepping into the unknown, which requires bravery and confidence in the future.

4.     Openness to Growth: Change often brings growth. New challenges and environments push us to adapt and evolve. By moving into his own home, my son will learn and grow in ways he couldn’t under my roof. For President Biden, stepping aside allows for new leadership to tackle emerging issues with fresh vigour.

5.     Legacy and Impact: Ultimately, the decision to embrace change should consider the legacy you leave behind. My son’s independence is a part of the legacy of our family’s values and way of being (we are all strong-minded individuals). President Biden’s decision reflects his desire to ensure a stable and prosperous future for the nation, valuing the legacy of his leadership.

Change is inevitable and necessary for personal and collective growth. Whether it’s watching a loved one embark on a new journey or witnessing a leader make a selfless decision, these moments remind us that the right time to accept change is when it aligns with our values, readiness, and the greater good.

Here’s to embracing change with wisdom, courage, and a forward-looking perspective. And may Charles be very happy in his new home.

Defining moments

Day 12 (Monday 12th December 2016)

12 literary awards and numerous accolades, including a commendation

in relation to the Nobel Prize for Literature, are a reflection of the talents of

William Trevor, the Irish writer, playwright and short story specialist

(he is widely considered to be the finest short story writer in the English

language for the past half century). He died on 20th November 2016.

We have reached the start of a new week and I am sure you will agree with me that the blogs so far have been stunning; today's, by Tony Jackson, is no exception. It is a very personal reflection on a defining moment, not just for him in 2016 but in his life as a whole. Tony is the founder and managing director of Chelsham Consulting Limited, a firm that specialises in executive, leadership and transition coaching, facilitation and people consulting. Tony is active on social media (his business Twitter handle is @ChelshamConsult or you can contact him direct via @JacksonT0ny) - he writes an excellent coaching blog, "Silos, boundary-spanners & hot spots" and publishes posts on LinkedIn. Tony is both emotionally and intellectually intelligent and is swift to get to the heart of an issue. Resilient, perspicacious and empathetic - he is a great person to bounce ideas off or to discuss an issue with, to determine a solution.

As an added treat to his post, the beautiful pictures (excluding the one of David Bowie and the final one of the Fylde coast) are all photographs taken by Tony himself.

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Defining moments


There are some moments which define you.

If ever there was a bad year personally it was 2015.  And if ever there was a bad year for the world it has been 2016 – although  remarkably it turned into a much more positive one on the personal front.

(As an aside: I genuinely felt David Bowie’s death in January as if it was that of a beloved & close family member – and somehow it seems that since that awful day it has just been one thing after another on this blue planet of ours. As if David was the one who held things together for us.)

I had a complex, difficult relationship with my father. And then he went and died in October 2015 – leaving me without parents. My dear Mum died way back in 1990. His death incited so many memories of her and so many mixed emotions. 

Genuinely complicated.

My hollow came a year later. A surreal day.

My brother was much closer to him than I ever was – and given their geographical proximity (I escaped to London at the first opportunity as a young man) had managed the estate and the house for many months. My step-mother – his second wife - had moved out and into a home near her daughter as she gradually slid into the parallel world of vascular dementia. 

So it had been a trying year as we navigated new territories in a variety of ways. And none of us had ventured anywhere near my father’s wardrobes & cupboards to do the necessary clearing. Quite a hard task.

And the time had come. I’d decided that I could probably choose to be more dispassionate about matters. Nevertheless I needed to brace myself so I did, then sped up the motorways to the Fylde, popped into the village shop to buy some bin-liners and in I went.

For reasons I will not go into, it is not a place filled with exclusively happy memories. And the village is a place about which I have blogged before so let’s not go there either.

I kid you not…the lock collapsed as I opened the front door.  As if the house was saying either do not enter or ‘I have you again – you may not leave’.

I started in the loft. Pausing on the old 78s and 45s which I remembered from my early childhood. Finding…well…finding little really.

And then in the bathroom cabinet more than one unopened Christmas aftershave which I had given him many years before. Oh so he didn’t like it after all.

And then those wardrobes. With each new door a memory was provoked. Still some things which belonged to my mother. Clothes of his which hadn’t been worn for decades. Multiple packs of new shirts (his recent habit had been hilariously over-ordering on the internet). Medical paraphernalia. Now I’m feeling wistful. The overnight bag he’d taken with him on that final admission into hospital. Still packed. Now I’m feeling hollow.

Hollow with the realisation  that something profound has happened.

A generational shift.

There’s no longer anyone ahead of me.

I am the responsible one. 

Fylde coast

Time to Plant Trees

“Old men sit in the shade because they planted a tree many years before.” – a traditional Ugandan proverb

In every family there are people who stand out from the crowd – they are the ones to whom the others turn in times of trouble or when needing sage advice. My Uncle Andrew was the pillar and inspiration of his generation. He was an exceptional doctor, with specialist knowledge of tropical diseases, and his working life was devoted to helping the poor of Africa. Have you seen the film, “The Last Kind of Scotland”, much of the story applies to Andrew? Andrew was an engaging, UK-qualified Doctor, with Scottish roots, who went to Uganda to establish world-class healthcare for the people who needed it most. He was much loved and respected – his local name, “Pa Crow”, came about because of his caring observant nature. He was adored by all those who knew him, (but he did not have an affair with Idi Amin’s wife - not least because he preferred men – something punishable by life imprisonment under Uganda’s legislation). As was stated in his obituary in the British Medical Journal, he cared profoundly for the poor and “the rich, if he regarded them in any way as responsible for the plight of the poor, usually received short shrift”). As in the film, my uncle was forced to flee Uganda, under imminent threat of death from Idi Amin’s regime. He was cultured and devoted to continuous learning – his last act, prior to departing Uganda, was the burial of his exceptional library, which included first editions by Sir Richard Burton (the extraordinary Victorian explorer, sexologist and spy) and also his rare collection of Makonde sculptures. The Makonde craftsmen are famous for their “tree of life’ carvings - which show intricately whittled, interconnecting human groups representing unity and continuity. Usually they depict villagers, working together with each other and nature, helping one another, to ensure survival across generations.

In some ways this blog has a similar theme…

Last year I was asked to mentor an amazing young man as part of the Queen’s Young Leaders Programme – the Programme was established to celebrate and support exceptional young people aged 18-29 (drawn from across the Commonwealth) – each and every one of them is making the world a better place. I mentored Edmund who had founded a charity to support refugees, initially in Kenya but now expanded into other locations. One of the ways I was able to help was by introducing him to some of the people in my network who are involved with charities and one of them was Ian Pettigrew, a learning and development guru and trustee of the charity Retrak. Ian is one of the nicest men I know – generous of spirit, highly intelligent and consistently considerate and encouraging. I count him as a friend and over the years we have discussed the work he has been involved in with Retrak - helping street children in various locations in Africa and South America. He told me his dream of inspiring a group of HR professionals to travel to Africa and share their skills and learning with the children, staff and others. That dream has become a reality - a small group has been chosen from those who applied and will be travelling to Kampala in September 2016 under the banner of Connecting HR Africa.  I am proud to be one of that team.

This is not “a jolly” it will be hard work and emotionally and physically demanding. I have operated in Africa, admittedly only for short periods and in a very privileged capacity, and for the past twelve years I have supported a bright Kenyan orphan called Catherine, encouraging her through education and the challenges of transitioning from being a child to an independent adult. Although an orphan, in many ways she was fortunate in that she had a place to live, regular meals and access to an education. Retrak helps those who are often less blessed. There are many reasons why children run away from home – abuse, bereavement, trafficking, desperation, etc. I believe children deserve a decent start in life and that those of us who can should help those who are less fortunate. I also know that problems need to be tackled at their root causes and that one of the reasons that there is a flood of migrants trying to escape Africa is because the problems where they come from are not being resolved. Retrak has an excellent track record of achieving lasting results. The last Retrak annual report, ending December 2014, shows that 96 children were rescued from trafficking, 4,265 street and vulnerable children were provided with help in outreach, placement, and follow up, and 605 children were reunited with families. That is an impressive record.

Part of my commitment to Retrak is to raise £2,000 for the charity. If each of my contacts on Social Media donated £1 I would exceed that amount and between us we would make a real difference. I am asking for your help – no matter how small. I promise that while I am in Uganda I will do my utmost to ensure that every penny counts. I am not requesting support for my travel costs or money for me. All sums donated will go to the charity. If you can help please follow this link to make a donation. 

My uncle Andrew didn’t need to go to Africa – he went because he knew he had skills that could make a difference. In a lesser way I wish to follow in his footsteps. I can never match his brilliance - Andrew was an amazing man in so many ways – although not affluent, he was dazzling – both to look at and in discussion. He was a true renaissance man, well read, cultured, artistic and accomplished (he was also a wonderful cook). He grew up on the fringes of the Bloomsbury Group and was close friends with Evelyn Waugh (I often felt he was like a character in Brideshead Revisited); he became a trustee for Lord Berners’ musical legacy; socialised with The Betjemans, HG Wells, Robert (“Mad Boy”) Heber-Percy, Coote and the Mitfords. He could have remained in the UK all his life, been a socialite and shone, but he preferred a harder path, to toil where his skills could add value. 

Andrew in Africa

Andrew only returned to the UK when his own health failed him – he contracted TB and was too unwell to work. He was granted an OBE for his services to Africa but had no pension or savings to support him (he had lost his life savings in Uganda), so he lived with his mother and, when she died, he moved to Somerset to be near his sisters (one of whom is my mother). As many of you know, my mother is currently unwell. I suppose part of my wishing to go to Uganda is to complete the circle. Andrew was my godfather as well as my uncle and I would like to do something worthy of his memory. Uncle Andrew died in my mother’s arms whilst she sang to him the lullaby their mother had sung to them as children. 

A picture of Andrew and my mother

He had no offspring of his own, he never married, but he cared. The theme of children and leaving a lasting legacy is strong – like one of his precious Makonde “Tree of Life” carvings, I wish to be part of a community working together to ensure survival and success for the generations to come. 

I would be very grateful for your support.

The long walk

Day 41 (Sunday 10th January 2016)

41 is a common slang term in Mexico used to refer to male homosexuality. This came about
due to the Dance of the 41 when, in 1901, Mexican police arrested 41 homosexuals who had been
attending a private drag ball at a home in Calle la Paz, Mexico City. The 41 were convicted and
conscripted into the army as punishment. Homophobia is still prevalent in much of Mexico.
Even in the late 20th century the number 41 was stigmatised across the country, with it being avoided
as a house or room number and not allocated in payrolls or as a vehicle registration number.
41 is still used as a negative way of referring to gay men, however same-sex marriage is now legal in Mexico City and a charity has been established called "Honour 41", which celebrates Latino/a LGBT role models.
Picture: “Los 41 Maricones” (The 41 Queers) by Jose Guadalupe Posada, 1901 (Wikipedia)

Today's blog is by Meg Peppin, the highly-esteemed and much-respected OD specialist and founder of the MP Partnership, which has kept her and others busy, helping people and organisations to thrive, since 2003. She is warm and supportive, very popular and active on social media (her Twitter handle is @OD_optimist ), but, take it from me, she is even better in real life. Meg writes a wonderful blog, "Halls are made for madness". She is erudite, perceptive and entertaining - a great companion to the theatre or for a swift G&T and a chat after work. It has taken Meg and I a few years to get to know each other, but I am so glad that I/we made the effort. She shared some of my highlights of 2015 and I hope that more people benefit from getting to know her and working with her during the course of this year, as she is a delight.

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What trail are you leaving behind you as you/we travel through life on our long walk?  

Periwinkle trails on the beach at low tide

Is it coal dust, a smudge on a cheek, a crunch underfoot, a piece of grit that we can’t quite shift - a sinister and unseen inhalation that can poison – so volatile in the air that with the right (or wrong) conditions it can spontaneously combust? 

Coal dust explosion

Or perhaps comets, also dust – oh but when the right conditions exist that dust can shine and burst across our horizons and leave a trail that we won’t forget; a trail of sparkles that lights the way for us.  

My coal dust moment; an unexpected reaction, unwelcome, uncomfortable, unlovely.  Embarrassing.   The coal dust that exploded lingered from something old, couldn’t wash it away, a thought hidden away.  Catalysed by something completely different - an unanticipated forceful demand, an insistence. The coal dust, a soft barb, an indirect criticism, surfacing occasionally, just out of awareness but bothering me.

My comet moments; more of these, many more.

The day I didn’t turn up for work. Duty manager at the weekend for 600 reluctant workers. I was utterly committed to them and being fully there at the unpopular shifts.  And yet, once - only once, I didn’t update my calendar. When I picked up my messages I heard “where are you Meg?”.  A Sunday where I didn’t turn up.  Mortified on Monday, I arrived fully prepared and willing for disciplinary action.  The most human of managers just looked at me and said softly “Are you OK? We were worried”.  Rather than focussing on what was unlike me, he focussed on what was like me and offered tenderness into the conversation.  What did that leave me with? Knowing what sort of manager I wanted to be inspired me.  I realise now too, as I think about it - he would have been brave not to discipline me in that place. His light trail still lingers, all these years on.

Another comet that lit the way; a hand from a relative stranger, a real hand, gripping mine and saying “come with me” when I couldn’t walk on my own.  I can still feel that moment many years ago, and I often have walked towards what is painful and difficult as a result of what was left by her.   So bright, so loving.  She said afterwards she didn’t know why she did it. But, she did.

However long or short our time – I think of life as the long walk.   Sometimes we’re with people, but it’s always our own individual walk.  Alongside us, if we’re lucky, we have our loves, and other walkers at times – some of them we don’t know and we can’t choose.  Remember, the ones that leave the dust trail – they always go – you pass them, or they pass you, but they go.

Coal dust, it’s nasty stuff. Sometimes it sticks to us, and we can’t shake it off. If you’re in any type of position of power – you can choose I reckon; whether you want to deposit a piece of grit that could combust.  Or, when you are walking alongside another, you could leave a light trail to light up some of their walk.

Aren’t we all in a position of power to determine what we want left behind, as we walk?

Stepping off the merry-go-round

Day 23 (Wednesday 23rd December 2015)

23% of men (compared to 33% of women) would contact their doctor if they had felt low for
at least 2 weeks (according to research by Mind). Suicide is the biggest killer of men aged between 20 and 49.
Christmas is a time when many people feel low and isolated. It is crucial that we, as caring and
responsible members of society are aware, and speak out to cease the stigma of mental health.

One of the joys of hosting the Advent Blog series is the chance to catch up with people, and the blogs submitted make me contemplate the things that are important. Chris Kane exemplified this last year, when he remembered his schoolfriend and rugby playing mate, David, and described the move of London Irish rugby club to its new grounds and how that change was handled with thought and sensitivity - you can read his blog here. Again this year Chris is commenting on change and acknowledging the impact particular friends can have. Chris is an expert in property and the working environment. After many years in corporate life Chris now runs his own consultancy, Chris Kane Associates, which specialises in "getting smart people to smart places" - a much wider remit than just facilities or property. You can follow Chris on Twitter, his handle is @ChrisKane55.

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In the hustle and bustle of our 21st-century “always-on” lives most of us have little time to draw breath, to pause for a moment or two, to take time out. Advent 2015 for me is very different, I’m in a new ball game having stepped off the corporate merry-go-round in April.  

Scene from Banksy's Dismaland 2015 (butcher with lasagne)

It is a completely novel experience where every day is different.  

Every day is different

In setting out on this journey I realised that is was driven in part by my recognising that I can see things differently to many in my former profession. Change is never easy and leaving a full-time job to step out into the unknown world of self-employment is not something that most people do on a voluntary basis.  So far it has been very meaningful and productive in ways I couldn’t have foreseen. 

Scene from Frank Capra's 1946 film, "It's a Wonderful Life"

Last year, Kate, reminded me of my Celtic roots by introducing Samhain as part of my Walking With The Spirits post.  This pre Christian tradition is a period of taking stock of the past year, celebrating those spirits that have passed on and for looking forward.  

Celtic calendar showing Samhain preceding Yule

In taking such a big leap into the unknown it is always helpful to have a bit of help and I’m fortunate in having a good support network. This blog is about the help I got from my friend Nigel which I describe as a comet like relationship, something to be celebrated.

Nigel Roberts

When one is navigating a new course it is always helpful to have a guiding light. Sailors will recognise the importance of the Sun and the North Star but over the last 2 years I had my own guiding light that helped me move to my new world. During times of great change the thought of jumping off the fast moving carousel of corporate life can be daunting 

and a helping, yet challenging hand is very useful.  When thinking about a topic for this blog it struck me that comets are buzzing around the universe all the time yet we can only see them at certain times or with special equipment.  For example, Halley’s comet, only appears in our skies every 75 years.

Halley' comet

Most of us, myself included, assume comets streak through the sky and are gone in a flash. A useful metaphor for the transience of life maybe?  The more experienced astrologists amongst us will tell us that comets can be in orbit for up to 200 years and may be visible from earth for up to 18 months to 2 years. We are all agreed, no doubt, that it is fantastic to witness such a marvellous sight whizzing through the skies.

1908 article, from The San Francisco Call, predicting return of Halley's comet in 1910

Opening a new chapter enabled me to forge new relationships and to build stronger links with others. Nigel Roberts was somebody whom I came across when I went back to school in 2013. He was the interviewer from hell during my media skills training course, having learnt that I worked at his alma matter – the BBC. There was something about this spiky Mancunian that I admired and we decided to keep in touch. Over the past 2 years we developed quite a rapport as he guided me along the path of setting up on my own and how best to use the media.  Nigel pointed out the dangers of “spin triumphing over substance” and a host of other little gems. Little did we realise that like seeing a comet charging across the skies our journey together would be short lived.

Hale Bopp as seen in early 1997

In August, I learned of his untimely death and felt a deep loss of a genuine human being who had the rare knack of being insightful, entertaining and sometimes irreverent. For example, he wrote about the toxic office.   Attending his funeral it was not surprising to see a packed house filled with many people who had come to give him a good send-off. I wonder how long the coal dust of his comet tail will linger?  I suspect for quite some time as he had a big impact on a wide range of people from his Leeds University mates to his media colleagues to his family and friends.

Orionid meteor shower (formed from the dust left by Hally's comet)

Leaving your mark as a legacy