Having walked on the beaches of Ouistreham, it brings with it a harrowing sense of scale of just how far those brave young men (and often no more than boys) had to cover to any form of safety.
I took this photo on Sword Beach. What struck me then, as it does every time I look at it, is just how very far the water is on the horizon.
This was the second of the British D-Day landing beaches. The British 3rd Division spearheaded the amphibious assault on Sword.
Estimates suggest the British alone took 1,300 casualties at Sword with around 680 or so killed. A reported 10,000 casualties with 4,414 confirmed dead allied troops on D-Day.
90% of the first wave to storm the beaches didn’t live to see the end of the day.
I have read quite a bit over the last 24hrs as I also watched the news. There is so much could be said of the occasion, but it would be remiss of me to even try to. I have true admiration for every soul lost, and for those lucky enough to make it home.
“They fight not for the lust of conquest. They fight to end conquest. They fight to liberate.”
What have you done this week that you weren’t expecting to?
Can be good, bad, or even indifferent. Just something that wasn’t part of the plan seven days ago.
Perhaps a moment of kindness, a quiet achievement, or something that simply made you laugh.
Think about your week, really think about it, and while you take a moment to reminisce, the chances are you’re suddenly coming up with a list of things that have happened. Things that had it not been for the question, may have slipped into some form of distant memory – albeit happening all within the last 7 days.
Strange, isn’t it?
We spend our weeks dealing with whatever lands in front of us. We move from one thing to the next, telling ourselves we’ll stop and think about it later – then later gets busy too.
The thing is, sometimes we just need to sit with our thoughts and take stock of what has been happening around us. As life gets busier, sometimes it’s all too easy for the little things to slip by. We may recognise them at the time, but then time itself takes over and ebbs them away.
We need to worry less, and remember more.
Not necessarily remember everything by we do, but instead remember to just think about it a little more often than we do.
To pause long enough to recognise that our days aren’t merely passing by.
They’re filled with conversations, decisions, challenges, mistakes, achievements and moments that are quietly shaping who we become.
So, before this week disappears into the next one, ask yourself again:
Yesterday I was talking to a colleague at my new job and mentioned I wrote a blog. This blog. I said that I’d been writing the blog ‘properly’ for a while. Then worked out it has been almost 13 1/2 years now.
Then she asked the question of “How many times have you missed out on writing it?”
The simple truth is – never.
You see, it is more than just a random collection of thoughts on a Friday morning. It started small – I mean, really small and it has sort of just grown into what it is. Yes, it’s still my random thoughts, feelings and observations, but because I share them and I’m aware that in turn they are also shared further with others, then it would feel wrong for me to ‘miss a week’.
Not just that, but with the power of technology, I’ve been able to post from festivals, from a hospital bed, and even from the other side of the world. So it kind of takes away any excuses for not doing it.
This is what got me thinking about life in general. I guess none of us have an excuse for not doing something. We may have reasons, fully justified reasons, even if that reason is we simply don’t want to or don’t feel like it. But excuses? They don’t cut it. They’re kind of like lying, firstly to ourselves and then to anyone else we pass them to.
As I’ve gotten older, I see that more and more. I don’t make excuses. If I need to do something or I’m expected to do something, then I do it – doesn’t matter where, when or how. It will be done. And all without the need for an excuse.
The simplicity of a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer to starting something takes away the need to construct a myriad of ‘reasons’ why it isn’t done when expected/wanted.
So, take that reasoning into your day. Sit with it for a little while, then think about the difference between the simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ and kick excuses into touch. Not just for today, but for every day.
Remember, excuses are just tardiness wrapped in a thin veil of words…
How many times have you put something off because you haven’t felt ready?
The opportunity.
The difficult conversation.
The new role.
The change you know needs to happen.
Waiting until we feel ready can seem like the sensible thing to do. Responsible, even. But sometimes, “I’m not ready” is simply self-doubt wearing the disguise of preparation.
Why should we restrict ourselves by allowing self-doubt or fear of failure to decide what we are capable of?
The truth is, none of us ever feels completely ready. We become ready by starting.
Take the first step. Make the call. Ask the question. Put the idea forward. Accept that you won’t have every answer before you begin. Make a start – any start.
Action creates experience.
Experience creates knowledge.
Knowledge creates confidence.
(See the pattern here?)
You don’t need to see the entire journey planned out – not if you really want it. You only need enough courage to take the next step.
There will always be reasons to wait. There will always be uncertainty. But if we wait until every doubt has disappeared, some of our greatest opportunities will pass us by. Back yourself enough to take the step – that’s all you need to do. The rest, you can figure that out along the way.
Honestly, the chances of regretting starting before you feel completely ready are pretty slim.
There will be many times as we make our way through this wonderful journey called life, that we realise something needs fixing.
For the most part we have become a disposable society. Long gone are the ‘Make do and mend’ days of our Parents or Grandparents. Convenience dictates that it’s easier, more efficient and simply less hassle to just replace with new.
I don’t have an issue with that – per se. However, I am still one of those people who likes to try and mend. Or if I can’t mend it, can I repurpose it.
I suppose I enjoy the sense of reward that it brings when I can bring something back to use. Bring a new lease of life into something that was on a one way ticket to the scrap pile.
Because of the stuff I’ve had going on in the last couple of months – losing my job, surgery, find new job etc. it’s kind of made me realise that I’ve actually done pretty much this to myself. In June I was pretty much broken – career wise, physically and emotionally. But I managed to repurpose myself.
I say repurpose, as I’ve completely changed career in an industry I’ve had absolutely zero exposure to in the last. However, I had enough self belief left to know that I could bring something to it. I could bring ‘Me’.
You know, it was that version of me that works well in any capacity because I give it my all.
On Wednesday I had a site visit to help dismantle a jetty that is bound for our workshop to be restored. It was then, staring along the broken and over worn deck that I saw much more than just scrap. I saw the beauty of what it could be, and will be again.
We all have the capacity for ‘will be again’ if we want it.
You can rebuild, repurpose and restore whatever you really want to – and that includes yourself…
It feels like we’re finally coming to the end of another heatwave here in the UK. You can see the evidence of it everywhere. The fields are scorched. The fields, parks and lawns are brown.
Don’t get me wrong, I love a proper summer. Give me blue skies and sunshine over endless drizzle and something the weather forecast optimistically describes as a “summer shower” any day.
But we’ve had a lot of heat over the last couple of months. And eventually, prolonged exposure takes its toll.
Nature starts to struggle. The ground becomes harder. The grass turns brown. Things stop growing.
But over the last few nights, something has started to change. The temperature has dropped. There’s more dew on the ground in the mornings. And if you look closely, amongst all that scorched brown grass, little patches of green are beginning to appear again.
Slowly.
Not everywhere.
But they’re coming.
And this morning, looking at it, I realised just how much that resembles the last seven weeks of my own life. Seven weeks ago, I lost my job.
Suddenly I was thrown back into the seemingly endless search for the next opportunity. At first, I applied for the jobs I really wanted. Then a few weeks passed. And the net got wider. Then wider again.
Because there’s a different kind of pressure that starts building when you don’t know where your next income is coming from. Mortgage payments don’t care about your career aspirations. And that pressure starts to build.
Just to keep things interesting, I also managed to throw some emergency surgery into the mix. Because apparently just being unemployed wasn’t quite challenging enough.
But then, a couple of weeks ago, something changed. Two job offers arrived within 24 hours.
The truth is, by that point I desperately needed to take one. But I didn’t want desperation to make the decision for me. Both were good opportunities. Both took me into industries I hadn’t previously worked in. Both had things that genuinely excited me.
So I stopped. I looked at the pros and cons. I thought about what I actually wanted from the next stage of my career – and my life.
This week, I started my new role with a local company. And when I say local, I mean local. Less than four miles from my front door.
After spending a huge proportion of my working life travelling ridiculous distances, that alone feels slightly surreal.
But as my first week comes to a close, something else has happened.
I feel invigorated again.
I feel excited.
I feel challenged.
My head is full of ideas.
And I’ve realised just how much I’d been missing that feeling. Maybe without even knowing I was missing it.
And that brings me back to that grass.
Because perhaps life has seasons too. Sometimes everything is growing. Everything feels easy.
The conditions are right and you barely notice it happening.
And sometimes you hit a drought.
Things become harder. The pressure builds. You start wondering when something is going to change.
The last seven weeks have contained some long days. Some damn difficult days. And levels of stress I’m in absolutely no hurry to experience again.
But I got through them. That’s the thing about resilience. We often don’t realise how much of it we have until life gives us no choice but to use it.
You keep going.
You keep turning up.
You keep putting one foot in front of the other.
And then one morning, almost without noticing…
You see the first bit of green.
An opportunity appears.
Something finally falls into place. And suddenly the landscape starts looking a little different.
The drought might have been difficult. But it wasn’t permanent.
And maybe that’s worth remembering when we’re standing in the middle of our own scorched field wondering if things will ever change.
They do.
Sometimes slowly.
But they do.
This morning, the grass outside is still mostly brown. But there’s green coming through.
The semicolon is an unusual little piece of punctuation. It represents a point where the author could have ended the sentence, but chose not to.
There could have been a full stop. The story could have ended there. But instead, the author paused, took a breath, and carried on.
Life can sometimes feel much the same.
There will be times when the weight of everything becomes heavy. Times when we feel tired, overwhelmed, disappointed or simply worn down by the constant effort of trying to hold everything together.
There will be moments when things do not go to plan. When the path ahead becomes difficult to see and we begin to question whether we have the strength to take another step.
But we do.
Sometimes our greatest act of strength is not found in making a dramatic change or achieving something extraordinary. Sometimes it is simply deciding that this is not where that part of our story ends.
It is choosing to get out of bed and face another day. It is asking for help. It is trying again after something has gone wrong. It is believing that tomorrow might bring something today could not.
The pause is not failure.
Resting is not giving up.
Feeling lost does not mean that we will never find our way again.
Never forget that we are still the authors of our own story. We may not control every chapter, every character or every unexpected twist, but we hold the power to decide whether a difficult moment becomes the ending – or merely part of the sentence.
So, when life drags you down, tires you out or threatens to overwhelm you, remember that you have already survived every difficult chapter that came before this one.
Pause if you need to.
Take a breath.
Then choose the ongoing semicolon…
The greatest strength we possess is the ability to choose between a semicolon and a full stop…
This week, after a month of not being allowed to ride following surgery, I finally got back out on my bike. And bloody hell, did it feel good.
There is something about being on a bike that is difficult to explain to anyone who has never experienced it. The moment you pull away, the noise in your head seems to quieten. The worries become smaller, and for a while, nothing else matters.
Of course, the roads are now full of speed cameras. Especially those damn 50mph average-speed cameras. (I may have fallen victim to these in the past).
They are restrictive. But they don’t restrict the reason I ride. Because the real measurement has never been miles per hour.
It is smiles per hour.
Even at 50mph, with the cameras watching, I was smiling. I was back on my bike. I was back doing something I love. After surgery, recovery and a month of being told I could not ride, simply being out there again felt like freedom.
And it got me thinking.
The last six weeks have been eventful. Losing my job was unexpected and stressful. There have been difficult decisions, sleepless nights, >100 job applications, uncertainty and moments when I genuinely did not know what was coming next.
But – and this is the important bit, there have also been a lot of smiles.
There have been new opportunities. New conversations. New ideas. Lots of live music. Time with people who matter. Moments of excitement about what might come next. And reminders that even when life slows you down, it does not have to stop you from moving forward.
Perhaps we spend too much of our lives measuring progress in miles per hour.
But what if we measured life differently? What if we measured it in smiles per hour? To me fifty smiles per hour sounds like a much better way to live.
So, when you get into bed tonight, take a moment to think about your day:
What made you smile?
Who made you smile?
Why did it make you smile?
The what.
The who.
The why.
It all adds up.
Life will sometimes slow us down.
But speed is not everything.
Sometimes, the most important thing is simply being back on the road, appreciating the journey and recognising just how many reasons we still have to smile.
After my Mum passed away at Christmas 2024, I decided to buy myself a ‘proper’ record player.
The truth is, I had wanted a decent turntable, amplifier and speakers for some time.
Could I justify buying them?
No.
Could I really afford them?
Also no.
But grief does strange things to you. It shifts your emotions, changes your perspective and sometimes gives you the justification to do something you have wanted to do for years.
So I bought them.
I’ve spoken before about my relationship with music, and probably about vinyl too, but yesterday, something felt different. I listened to Portishead – Dummy, followed by Led Zeppelin IV, Depeche Mode – Violator
and to The HU – Black Thunder.
Four completely different records: Indie, electronic, classic rock and Mongolian throat metal (because, why not).
Four absolute masterpieces, at least as far as these 53yr old ears are concerned.
It’s when it simply reminded me that music is incredible.
It can change your mood, awaken something inside you and take you back to a moment you thought you had forgotten.
Our musical tastes are often shaped by the people we look up to. For me, it started with my big brother Stephen, listening to The Boomtown Rats, Stiff Little Fingers and countless others. Even now, Stiff Little Fingers are the band I’ve seen the second most: 9 times, only beaten by Metallica, at 13 times.
Thirty-eight years of gigs, and I can remember every one of them.
The venues.
The people.
The anticipation.
That moment when the lights went down.
And the feeling that, for the next couple of hours, nowhere else in the world mattered. I. The last month I’ve been exceptionally fortunate where I’ve been able to go to Download Festival, Metallica in London and last Saturday Iron Maiden at Knebworth. All of which have created memories that will last my lifetime and longer.
That is the magic of music.
It doesn’t simply remind you of the past. It takes you back there.
Back to the person you were.
Back to the people you were with.
Back to that time when…
So embrace the music.
Play the record.
Turn it up.
Close your eyes.
Remember.
Because life is for living.
Whether something lasts 38 years, 3.8 years or just 3.8 minutes, every one of those moments is invaluable.
Spend them wisely.
Spend them like your life depends on it. Because, one day, it just might.
It’s a long way to the top of you wanna rock n roll…
There are moments in life where you stop feeling like you’re waiting for permission.
You stop trying to fit into someone else’s picture of success.
You start building your own.
This week I have felt this.
This week I have convinced myself of this.
This week I am taking the next step – the first step into being more than this.
Knowing your worth is one of the hardest things to grasp – well for me it has been. But it is so unbelievably enlightening when that moment comes that you know you are ready.
Bring yourself, your authentic self, to any situation and I guarantee you that there will be nothing you cannot achieve.
Take a moment to just reflect on who you are, but more importantly how others see you compared to how you see you.
I am very open that I’ve always struggled with a sense of self worth. But something changed this week. I started to believe in myself because of what I am capable of.
Honestly, that in itself has been such an invigorating experience.
The world is already better for us being in it, so why would we not want to be our authentic self at all times and without doubt?
You need it, the world needs it. Everyone needs it.
Today I’m heading into London to see Metallica, and to say I’m excited would be a massive understatement.
This is the first of two nights, with the second show on Sunday as part of Metallica’s incredible No Repeat Weekend. It’s such a brilliant concept: two completely different setlists, no repeated songs, celebrating more than 40 years of crushing riffs, unforgettable anthems, and those mind melting guitar solos that have inspired generations of fans.
These concerts will also mark my 12th and 13th times seeing Metallica live, which seems almost impossible when I think back to where it all began.
My very first concert was Metallica in October 1988, in my hometown of Antrim, where they played the main hall of the local sports centre. On the ‘And Justice For All…’ tour. Looking back now, it’s incredible to think that a band who would go on to become one of the biggest in the world played less than a mile from where I grew up. Little did I know that night would spark a lifelong love of live music, and Metallica in particular.
Thirty eight years later, I’m still just as excited walking through those arena doors as I was back then. I know I will have goosebumps as the first notes of Ennio Morricone’s Ecstasy of Gold starts to play, knowing my musical hero’s are ready to take the stage.
This is what got me thinking this morning. We all need to have something in life that makes us feel this way. Something that inspires us and something bother genuinely just makes any day even better.
I know how fortunate I am to be able to experience nights like these, and I never take that for granted. Life has a way of reminding us that moments and memories are what really matter. This weekend is about switching off from everything else, singing until my voice disappears, soaking up every riff, every solo, and every second with thousands of fellow fans. And not forgetting the tour shirt that has become a tradition. Even better with artwork from the legendary Luke Preece.
Happy Damn Friday 