Dan Cullum

I have a theory, although I’ve yet to prove it with a stop watch.

The London Underground has signs that display the time, in minutes, until the next train arrives. However, I don’t believe their 1 minute equals 1 minute.

I think their 1 minute is something shorter, more like 50 seconds, because I often feel the train arrives sooner than expected.

Similar to the “under promise, over deliver” approach many of us have been coached to follow in the workplace, I think Transport for London end up with happier customers if their trains feel like they arrive earlier than expected. Over time, I think this could build up subconscious good will towards tube travel.

It sounds a bit weird, but wouldn’t you prefer a train that always feels like it arrives earlier than expected? Wouldn’t you accept the timing inaccuracy for the psychological benefit of your train early?

I should probably follow up this post with a stopwatch and an experiment.

I really enjoy following the content creator Robert Edison. He’s a 90-year-old who is in great shape, with a great attitude, and who is on a mission to share his life’s learnings.

He’s quirky, full of character, and generous with his wisdom.

One video which stood out to me—and admittedly, my confirmation bias—was his logbook video.

Edison has kept a logbook for over 40 years, and I love how he can go back and recall specific days from his past with clarity.

As with most investments, the dividends get paid long into the future.

I love this post from Jason Fried on innovation.

“Innovation should almost never happen. It’s incredibly rare. It mostly happens by accident, not by intention. It’s wonderful when it does, but you merely fluctuate in and out of it, it’s not steady state.”

“Work is mostly mundane. It’s mostly maintenance. It’s mostly local improvement and iteration. Work is mostly… Work. Any innovation is an outlier, nearly a rounding error.”

“Even the most innovative projects or products are full of rote, prosaic stuff that still needs building. The poetic magic may be in the 5%, but the bulk of the work is in the other 95.”

I believe even the most innovative teams and people spend most of their time working on the meat-and-potatoes type stuff.

And every so often, on the odd occasion, innovation strikes. But it only turns up if and when we’re willing to do the basics well.

Mixed in with the big ones, small ones can be powerful. They can give us a sense of accomplishment, and can help us form better habits.

Taking a walk every day.

Reading a book a month.

Trying a new recipe when friends come over.

Not all goals need to be big ones.

We can plan all we like, invest a tonne in design, and spend a load of money bringing our idea to life, but if its hard to get the thing into peoples’ hands, it’s all for nought.

Spotted on my walk today:

My friend Rohan got married last September, and as a recent groom, I asked for his thoughts on how to make the most of my wedding day.

He gave me two pieces of advice that I followed to the letter, and I’m so grateful I did. It’s now going to be my go-to pieces of advice; if anyone ever asks!).

1. The day is going to go by so quickly, so pause frequently, deliberately look around, and let the day and moment soak in.
2. Find your spouse in the day. It’s very easy to spend the whole day catching up with everyone and arriving at the end of it without having spent any time with your spouse. So every 10-20 minutes, find your them, hug them, tell them how much you love them, and remind them how special it is to be spending this day together.

If you know someone getting married and they ask for your advice, they’ll have likely heard of Number 1, but perhaps Number 2 is worth sharing with them. I now have many cherished memories of special moments between Maru and I that wouldn’t have happened had it not been for Rohan’s advice, and it’s one of the things that truly made the day feel magical.

One thing I like to do on long-haul flights—like our recent return journey from Buenos Aires to London—is try and watch something I never would otherwise.

I figure that being stuck in a metal tube traveling over an ocean is a good time to try new content when the opportunity cost of doing so is lower. It’s how I first discovered ‘3 Idiots’, one of my favourite films of all time.

A friend recommended ‘Physical: 100’ on Netflix. It’s basically the real life version of Squid Game, minus the violence and death!

It’s a South Korean game show where 100 of the best athletes from a range of disciplines compete in a variety of physical challenges, knocking each other out over 5 gruelling “quests” until 1 person is crowned victor and walks away with >200,000 USD.

There are Olympic gold medal winners, strong men competitors, army reserves, bodybuilders, CrossFit athletes, martial artists, and more, all vying for the title of best all-round athlete.

It’s spectacular viewing. The competition is fierce, but also respectful. The underlying foundation of sportsmanship and team work throughout the show makes it wholesome despite the immense stress placed on the competitors’ bodies (I expected tempers!).

I found myself quickly picking my favourites and cheering for them throughout the series. I also hardly slept a wink on the flight because I needed to know what happened next, and that’s saying something, because I can’t remember the last time I binge watched something in one go!

Anyway, enough spluttering. For those who like physical competition, sports, and team work, Physical: 100 may be up your alley!

I’ve written about Parkinson’s law a number of times before. The simple idea that “work expands to fill the time available” is one that resonates with a lot of people.

I’ve since started seeing Parkinson’s law crop up in other situations too, and I’ve categorised these as my “in the wild” sightings.

For example, items packed always expand to the baggage allowance purchased.

Or the amount of ice cream eaten by one’s nephews always expand to the size of the cup or cone provided.

Of course, these are cheeky observations of the law in action, but part of learning the effects of a new law is seeing it play out in our daily lives in unique and comical ways.

There’s almost no drink that’s made better with boiling water. At boiling point, things burn and things get bitter.

The goldilocks “just right” temperature for most hot drinks are 10-20 degrees cooler than 100 degrees Celsius. The teas are sweeter, and the coffee richer.

Stopping the kettle earlier, or having a variable temperature kettle, makes hot drinks orders of magnitude better.

Tiny margins can make a huge difference. Especially at boiling point.

I’ve decided to bite the bullet and sign up for Chat GPT Plus. It’s $20 per month, and gives access to Open AI’s GPT-4, as well as priority access when the servers are overloaded.

It’s clear generative AI is going to play a massive role in the future of work, and although I’ve been following the online chatter, I haven’t used Chat GPT in any meaningful amount over the past 3-4 months. Instead I’ve continued to use Google, finding and parsing information myself.

I want to deliberately stop using Google for a month or two, and switch completely to Chat GPT. I want to see what the experience is like for a full search engine replacement.

However, there are a few exceptions, such as when I’m looking for real-time information, as GPT has an information cut-off date of Sep 2021.

I’ve already been using it to plan so travel itineraries, sense check my ankle rehab plan, and to quickly digest the backstory on some Argentine art.

I’ll report back at the end of a month or so of usage.

The last month has been one of, if not the most, joyous times of my life. To have so many family and friends join Maru and I in Argentina for our wedding was beyond what I hoped for.

However, the party is coming to an end. My family flew out over the past couple days, and Maru and I are returning to the UK at the end of this week.

We both realise, and can rationalise, that all good things must come to an end, but it doesn’t make the goodbyes easier. The approach we’re taking is to appreciate all the details, interactions, and moments we lived, and to channel our energy into immense gratitude that they happened.

Maru and I were walking her family dog this evening, and I was commenting on how attached we—the human race—are to our dogs.

I marvelled at how we selectively bred and evolved wolves over thousands of years to be our closest, domesticated companions. I then commented how interesting it was that dogs had such little say in the matter.

Maru then turned my observation on its head. Perhaps its the dogs that have been playing 3D chess all along. Evolutionarily speaking, they’ve done exceptionally well. They’ve collectively convinced humans to provide them with all the shelter, food, and affection they need to survive and thrive. And us humans are willing to provide all of it without hesitation.

Of course, both observations are deliberately simplistic, but they hint at a symbiotic relationship that is hard to describe, but is so evident went felt.

Back in 2014, I made a mistake after a particularly bad ankle sprain: I relied on my crutches for too long.

After two weeks of crutch usage, I found it extremely hard to regain range of motion and strength in my ankle.

This time round, although though the sprain wasn’t as bad, I’ve also opted for a different approach.

I iced, rested, and elevated my foot for the first day, but on the second day I used compression strapping and started putting weight on my foot. I tried to carry out my day as normal, just walking slower than normal. On the third day, I tried to return to normal range of motion, and resorting back to a bit of hobbling with any onset of pain.

Although I haven’t been following any specific medical advice, I have been listening to how my ankle and foot are feeling and adjusting accordingly.

I’m thrilled with how my recovery is progressing, and am pleased that I’m not repeating the same mistake I made in 2014.

The email newsletter software I use scans my blog at the same time every day, takes the latest post, and sends it to readers.

In other words, the train leaves the station at the same time each day.

Sometimes, I’m dressed well; feeling put together. Other times, I feel disheveled and out of sorts with myself.

Still, the train leaves the station. To maintain the streak, I need to turn up on time, with a post in hand, without fail.

I think there is something powerful about turning up rain or shine, and simply hopping on the train for that day with the best that I can muster.

I went out on a run today through Parque Municipal Llao Llao. It has an excellent set of trails that run alongside the lakes and afford a great view of the surrounding mountains.

I was about 2.5kms in when I sprained my ankle. I was distracted by the stunning views and tripped on a tree root. I checked I hadn’t broken anything, and thankfully I could still put some weight on my leg.

However, there was no signal, nor was there nearby road access. So as the sun was setting, I decided to retrace my steps along the trail to get back to the house.

I managed to find a large stick to help me hobble back, and the adrenaline enabled me keep a reasonable pace. I arrived about 15 minutes before nightfall, and Maru immediately put ice on my ankle.

It’s been so long since I’ve had an injury that perhaps I got a little lazy on this run—thinking it wouldn’t happen to me, and allowing myself to be distracted by the views.

Thankfully, this wasn’t a serious injury, but after thinking about how it could’ve been much worse, it made me think twice about how I should take a bit more care in letting people know where I’m running and for how long they should expect me to be gone for.