A Slice of Good

Day 28 (Wednesday 28th December 2016)

28 years since the English wine estate, Nyetimber, was established.

In June 2016 Nyetimber was deemed better than Champagne in a 

blind tasting in Paris - 9 out of 14 judges (all leading oenophiles) 

preferred a £40 bottle of English Nyetimber to a £65 French Champagne.

Gosh, those 4 days went swiftly. For those of you returning to work today, I hope you have a productive and peaceful time; and for those not going back to work - may the festivities continue... You could try today's post to get you in a celebratory mood (or at least one that makes you reflect on how we react to celebration, success and failure).

I always love welcoming new voices to the series and today I am pleased to introduce you to Johnny Parks. Johnny lives in Belfast - he has just bought a wonderful old bank with planning permission to turn it into a dwelling - which will happen in 2017 - I've seen some of the plans and it will be stunning. Transforming a traditional building and giving it a new future in some ways symbolises Johnny and his work. He is a top psychologist and specialises in helping individuals and organisations understand themselves and hence manage their way towards a desired better future, through necessary and successful change. 

Johnny was a rebellious child and has had an unconventional route to becoming the founder and Director of the highly respected business consultancy, Toward. He started his career in a lowly role at Kentucky Fried Chicken, in Bangor, whilst at the same time doing youth work. His potential was spotted by the community development and regeneration specialist Maggie Andrews, who persuaded him to apply to university - resulting in his attaining a BSc in Community Youth Work at the University of Ulster (he also has a Masters in Managing Voluntary Organisations and a degree in Child Development Psychology). After working with disenfranchised and disillusioned youth, and doing some amazing work to help heal society in Northern Ireland, Johnny turned his sights on business. He could see the need for leaders to enhance their skills and grow as individuals. He founded the consultancy, Toward, in 2006 and the business is now active in the UK, the Philippines, India, Europe, Silicon Valley and Ireland. Johnny is naturally passionate about organisational development, based on workplace psychology, and great, but challenging (in a good way), to work with.

Johnny is an amazing man on so many levels: a devoted husband to Cathy and a father (with a fabulous relationship with his sons); a keen sportsman (both playing and watching); a loving Christian; and an excellent musician. He composes, sings and plays a mean guitar (and occasional harmonica). Johnny is naturally creative and a congenial connector - he is well-known in both the artistic and business communities in Belfast, and beyond. You can connect with him on Twitter (his handle is @johnny_parks). 

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A Slice of Good

November 2013. Aviva Stadium, Dublin. Tension.

Bloody, damned tension.

Why, oh why, can’t it just be joy and a bit of fiddly-dee? Nope, here we go again…tension.

90 seconds to go. Buttocks clenched, breathing ceased, eyes on stalks. Gripping the hands of my 2 eldest boys. Wrestling for a defeat as if preordained.

Only seconds before, gleefully, I had said to the boys, “Gather your stuff…we’re invading the pitch!” “Isn’t that against the law Dad?” came the response. “Yes, but it’ll be worth it lads! A night in jail to see Ireland make history against the All Blacks! It’ll be worth it!”

Then, they did what they always do. They bloody well beat us. Again. In the dying seconds.

If ever there was a FFS required, this was the time. FFS! They beat us again.

We went home on the train, with hundreds of other supporters. Hardly a cheep…just a humdrum murmuring, possibly the influence of the liquid sedative.

I’m not exaggerating by saying that it took me and my boys months to recover. I know that’s being a bit dramatic, but we are a rugby family and we’re immensely respectful and proud of the gladiators who choose to battle for a small and relatively insignificant slice of glory. They’re not arresting Fascism, but it still means something. We. Were. Gutted.

As a proud rugby nation, that embarrassing and persistent little monkey had lived on our backs for too long. But, fortunately, if you pressed fast-forward for 3 years you’d see that it was firmly & finally chucked into the mincer.

6^th November 2016 and we were gathered around the TV at my in-laws. The match was being played in Soldier’s Field, Chicago, otherwise we’d have been at the Aviva, Dublin in person. It’s really hard to explain the emotion we were feeling before the match. There was a deep, fragile and extremely private hope. Although, it felt like you couldn’t whisper anything remotely hopeful for fear that you alone would jinx the whole affair. We were shtum. We knew we had a good team but we knew that they had an awesome team. And, what was worse, we knew that they knew that they had an awesome team. FFS! Why couldn't they just be a little bit crap?

Anyway, you may or may not know but on that glorious and unforgettable day, we, the Irish nation, beat the All Blacks (the best sporting team in history, ever) for the first time. *Sigh* 106 years of defeat and shame put to bed. It was wonderful, absolutely wonderful. When the whistle went, we leapt up, embraced each other, spilt drinks, yelled, high-fived, danced and, I’m delighted to say, cried. I think someone even started singing ‘One’.

For days we talked about it, watched every interview & read every article. I’ve never listened to as many podcasts in my life! Podcasts! My and my boys grinned. Even when they had to get up with the birds the following Monday for school, they grinned. It was remarkable!

For some, sport is an annoying pop-up. For our family, it’s part of our identity. We follow certain teams, people & events. We love the drama of it all but we worship those who relentlessly pursue excellence and glory. It's primal, evolutionary and deeply sophisticated. It's the combination of art, intelligence, team and sacrifice that is so compelling for us. We’re hooked.

When Robbie Henshaw (Ireland’s no. 12) scored that try in the dying minutes, we knew we’d won. And, for some weird reason, it meant something. It was just so bloody beautiful…just for a few minutes. Minutes I'll never forget.

Yes, this year has been all kinds of weird but there’s been some good stuff too and I just wanted to share a slice of the good we’ve had with you.

40-29 to Ireland. Thank the Lord.

Ireland’s Jonathan Sexton converts their first try [©INPHO/Dan Sheridan]

Dear Dad

Day 10 (Saturday 10th December 2016)

10 years old - the age that Prince danced on stage with his show 

business idol, James Brown. Prince credited Brown with having had 

a big influence on his own style. Prince died unexpectedly on 21April 

2016 at the age of 57 of an accidental drug overdose.

Welcome to the weekend, often a time for reflection. I suspect today's post by Mathew (Mat) Davies will provide you with an opportunity to do just that.  Mat is a much respected, passionate HR Director, with proven experience up to Board level in international and world-class organisations, who is active on social media (you can follow him on Twitter, his handle is @RafaDavies). He is also renown for being a proud Welshman (especially when rugby is involved) and a keen music aficionado. He is the Senior Editor at Ghost Cult Magazine. In addition to music, Mat is well-read, enjoying many genres from classic to comics. He is also an active cyclist (but I suspect most are). Mat enjoys learning (both for himself and supporting others), he is a straight talker and he writes an excellent blog: thedustjacketsite.wordpress.com. 

As you will be able to tell from Mat's post, 2016 has been a challenging year for him. In addition to a family bereavement, he has ceased working at CGI, where he had been for over 5 years. He is now actively seeking his next challenge and would be delighted to hear from you, especially if you are looking for an intelligent, creative, pragmatic, business-minded HR Director. 

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Dear Dad

The passing of my father on April 28^th shaped my 2016. He was 74. He had a terrific life and was a brilliant dad, husband, friend, teacher and advisor.

Hey Dad,

I thought I’d drop you a line so you could catch up on all the things you’ve missed. Perhaps you’re keeping a watch over us all anyway so this might be telling you things you know already. In case not, given you didn’t really get on with that mobile phone of yours and we haven’t worked out how to text each other where you are now, I thought this would help.

Since you left us for a better place, 2016 has been quite the year.

There’s been so much going on, it’s hard to know where to start. Perhaps we should start with the things that we used to talk about.

Leicester won the Premier League, just like you said they would. Gary Lineker did keep his promise to wear his underpants on Match of the Day, too.

In the rugby, the Welsh team needs some new ideas which I know you will have only been too happy to have given them from the vantage point of your chair in front of the window. Your second team, The All Blacks, seemed to want to beat everyone until Ireland reminded them that there were other teams who knew how to play the oval ball game so they are going great guns too. I know you won’t thank me for saying this but England look good too.

So we decided to leave Europe. I know you would have had your say about all of this but it pretty much changed everything in UK politics. Theresa is in charge now, Dad.

Corbyn is still there, being Corbyn.

Jeremy Corbyn debating with Owen Smith.
Photograph: Sky News via Getty Images

That Farage bloke is still trying to convince us that he’s a man of the people. He’s stopped being the leader of his party. For now, anyway. His new best friend is that American gameshow host with the big flat and the funny hair. Yeah, he did become President of the United States as well. It’s all been a bit surreal. You will have liked the intrigue I’m sure but I know you won’t have liked how nasty and divisive and tribal it has all felt. It feels like we have moved to a new place where lots of reconciliation and discussion needs to happen before wounds can really heal.

We’ve said our goodbyes but it’s also felt like we have been saying many goodbyes all year. David Bowie’s passing seems to have resonated across the year; likewise, Prince. There have been lots of other goodbyes to say too. I know how much you used to admire the skill and elan of Johann Cruyff, the artistry of Alan Rickman, the gentle humour of Victoria Wood, the warm bonhomie of Terry Wogan.

 

There have been lots of others. Many, many others. I missed being able to talk to you about them, and many others. I miss how you’d instinctively have the right words to say at times like this. The calm authority; the reflective insight.

I’ve missed that, Dad.

I’ve missed being able just to hear your voice; to reassure when things weren’t going so well. I’ve missed you telling your jokes.

I’ve missed the way that you’d shout at the telly even though no one could hear, berating poor refereeing decisions or poor marksmanship, or just saying goodnight to Huw Edwards on the 10 o’clock News.

I’ve missed telling you about the rock bands I’d been to see that you’d never heard of and never wanted to hear. I’ve missed how you’d wipe the imaginary dust off a new book that you’d received. I’ve missed that it didn’t matter whether we met often or not, it didn’t matter whether we spoke every day or not, what mattered was that you loved me a lot.

What I have learned is year is this.

Life is going to throw enormous challenges at you: bereavement and grief, job loss, political upheavals that you didn’t vote for, artists and heroes leaving this life for another one. I’ve learned it is easy to feel like you’re on a treadmill, not knowing how to get off, whether you should even think about getting off because you won’t know how to get back on again. I’ve learned it's possible to change who you are, what you do, what point of view you take, how you react to things. I’ve learned to stop thinking that this life can’t change.

It changes every day.

I’ve learned that each day gives us a chance to bring happiness and energy and drive and passion to do amazing, brilliant and joyful things.

An ordinary life is still an extraordinary one.

I’ve learned that I’m capable of more. More patience, more insight, more love.

And I learned that from you, Dad.

Merry Christmas, Dad.

M xx