Archives for 2025

I was recently helping someone with a job application, and by the end of it, we’d tweaked their written submission close to twenty times.

The third, fourth, and fifth drafts weren’t clear enough. Nor was the seventeenth. But after about twenty iterations, they arrived at an output they were happy with.

A lot of people will stop at draft number two. But sometimes it takes much much more to get to the required level of quality. I admire the tenacity of folks who don’t even blink twice when it comes to iterating until things feel right.

Maru and I will sometimes discuss mental load, and how we can share it more evenly.

First, there is the defined load, which is a set split of weekly or monthly responsibilities.

Then there’s the mental load for the things that come up sporadically. Planning meals, communicating with the landlord if there’s an issue, planning social activities, etc.

If the balance falls too much towards one person, we have a conversation about what mental load should shift to other.

I think these conversations are helpful because the size of the mental load remains invisible until someone describes it.

I’ve written before about how the London Underground is filled with advertisements for finance companies.

Investment apps. Crypto. Tax advice. Banks.

The thing that irks me about some of the riskier products advertised is the large print vs. fine print.

Large print: “Where your money works.”

Small print: “Your capital is at risk.”

When one message is 10x larger than the other, are we surprised what people end up focusing on?

I’ve been reminded recently of the quote: trust is earned in drops and lost in buckets.

Earning trust is a lifelong effort that never stops, even if the bucket eventually overflows drop by drop.

Every item bought has an initial purchase price, which is the money that leaves your bank account.

They also have maintenance and headspace costs. This is time spent keeping the thing working, and time spent thinking about maintaining, storing, or transporting the thing. Even if these costs are low, they exist.

We often focus on initial purchase price and give little thought to the other costs. But it’s worth tallying up the total cost of ownership, and figuring out if we’re willing to pay it or not.

There’s a lesson I’m thinking about all the time: how almost all good things in life are the result of prolonged, consistent effort.

Good relationships, careers, friendships, healthy bodies, and new skills learned. None of them happen overnight. None of them happen quickly.

They all require thought, care, patience, and commitment over a sustained period of time.

Choosing the few things that matter, and consistently putting in the effort, is what makes the difference.

The secret ingredient is an easy-to-believe concept because it’d be convenient if a single, mysterious thing could make all the difference.

But in reality, we need much more than a secret ingredient. How we prepare, how we sequence, how we manage heat and temperature as we cook, and how we present, all impact the final product.

It’s true for food, but also for most complex projects. There’s much more to it than simply having a secret ingredient.

Maru and I got married two years ago, and life with her continues to be full of joy, love, fun, laughter, and adventure. I’m thrilled that on this anniversary, we’re finally on our (belated) honeymoon.

One concept Maru shared with me a while ago was the idea of a family birthday. In addition to celebrating our anniversary, it’s also “Happy 2nd Birthday” to our family. I thought it was a great concept, in particular one that will appeal to our future kids, making them a part of this special day too.

One thing my tennis coach keeps telling me is to watch how the pros prepare for every shot.

It how they read the game, their footwork, their placement of the racket—all of it ladders up to a clean, simple, and efficient preparation process.

I came as no surprise then that the more time I give myself to prepare for a shot, the better they get.

In tennis it’s easy to see the impact of ample preparation time—you get the benefit almost immediately.

However, I’m convinced that its benefits extend far beyond the tennis court.

Whiteboards make it easy to be wrong, and that’s a good thing.

When we’re solving a hard problem, it’s unlikely the first solution we come up with will be good enough. We need to churn out a number of ideas, sort the good from the bad, and then refine the few until we end up with a solid answer.

A whiteboard is an open canvas. It invites us to try, to experiment, to be bold, and most importantly, to be wrong. With a quick wipe, any bad idea is erased, and any new idea has space to emerge.

When I’m stuck, I quickly find myself seeking out a big blank whiteboard.

One big lesson from the first ten years of my career is that it’s always worth doing the hard work to make things simple and easy for others to understand.

Firstlyly, most people don’t—or are unwilling—to do the work. So if you do, it’s an instant differentiator.

Secondly, although it’s a skill that can be acquired, the work will always take time. Many people don’t factor that into their plans. They don’t allow time for the second or third draft, and they don’t leave space for their subconscious to work.

Finally, people notice when you’ve worked hard to make it easy for them to understand. It leads to increased trust and confidence in you and your team, and is a habit that pays dividends over and over.

I’m a massive fan of Tom Bihn bags. This year I will have had my Aeronaut 45 for 10 years and it looks pretty much the same as when I bought it. Not one zip has broken and not a single tear to be found.

Tom Bihn invest in quality materials and strong construction, and it shows in bags that will last many decades.

Whilst I’m on my honeymoon, I’m taking the slightly smaller Techonaut 30, which is a bit more carry-on friendly than the Aeronaut. It’s a dream with its thoughtfully designed main compartment and outside pockets. It’s easy to pack and to get to everything I need.

This blog isn’t big enough to have sponsors, so this is just a simple post calling out a company that does a few thing really really well. I love that.

Pessimism is easy. Anyone can come up with a risk, a downside, or a way things could go wrong.

Optimism, on the other hand, is hard. The optimist sticks their neck out for an idea. They try and imagine the best version of the future, even if that future looks far away or tough to achieve. And they work hard to convince others of their vision.

I think it is worth defaulting to optimism where we let ideas and possibilities flow. There’ll always either be time, or others, willing to offer a different perspective.

I much prefer writing these posts in the morning. However, I’m often busy and find myself getting to it at the end of the day.

It’s not just that I’m tired or think less clearly in the evening, but I approach reflection differently at the end of the day versus the beginning.

When writing early, I’m reflecting on yesterday. My subconscious has had time to process things while I sleep, and I’m trying to remember what I learned, what was interesting, and what was difficult.

When writing at the end of the day, I’m scrambling to reflect on the day without creating the appropriate space to do so.

Building writing into my morning schedule is something I’m trying to do more of in 2025.

I appreciated this video from Harvard professor, Dr. Arthur Brooks. He describes that happiness is a direction, not a destination. He goes on to say that one of the biggest mistakes people make is thinking that happiness is a feeling, and continually chasing that feeling.

We should instead see happiness more like a project that we can work on every day, where the big things that matter in life are: faith (a way of seeing the world, a philosophy, or a religion), family, friendships, and work that serves others.

That feels like a worth direction to travel in.