Blog

I played a lot of football growing up: at school, with a club, and casually with friends.

My club coach had a well known saying: “The idea was right.”

It came out once or twice a game when someone tried to make the right play, but their execution was off: a pass was misplaced, a through ball lacked commitment, or a shot was off target.

Coach was a positive reinforcement specialist. He applauded intention. He encouraged calculated risk taking. And he realised that you don’t build confident young men by tearing them down.

“The idea was right” extends far beyond the football pitch.

A landmark report has been released assessing the UK Government’s response to the Coronavirus pandemic.

The report concluded the immediate response was a disaster. Examples include 1) accepting herd immunity as inevitable without firm prospect of a vaccine, and 2) deciding to stop community testing in March 2020; which left the UK with little data to analyse the speed of the spread of the virus.

Despite these errors, the UK’s vaccine rollout was a success. In particular, it highlights a decision to fund vaccine research back in 2016—and continued support from successive governments—that led to the speedy development of the Oxford/AstraZeneca vaccine.

Without understanding the what, how, and why of past decisions, it’s impossible to respond to similar events in the future. So I love living in a country promotes and supports rigorous post-mortems on government action.

“Remember when you wanted what you currently have.”

I heard this line recently and it inspired reflection, introspection, and an acknowledgement of how many things have changed imperceptibly, but significantly, over the past 5-10 years.

It’s so easy to normalise improvements in our situation—to expect things that a few years ago would’ve brought us immense joy.

I hope it inspires some gratitude in your day too.

I spent yesterday at the wedding of two close friends.

One of the poems read at the ceremony, a Russian poem by Boris Pasternak, stood out to me. And as with many good poems, although the words on the page are the same, their meaning can bend, stretch, and dance to meet the reader wherever they are.

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In every thing I want to grasp…

1956

In every thing I want to grasp
Its very core.
In work, in searching for the path,
In heart’s uproar.

To see the essence of my days,
In every minute
To see its cause, its root, its base,
Its sacred meaning.

Perceiving constantly the hidden
Thread of fate
To live, to think, to love, to feel
And to create.

If I was able, I would write,
I’d try to fashion
The eight of lines, the eight of rhymes
On laws of passion,

On the unlawfulness and sins,
On runs and chases,
On palms and elbows, sudden somethings,
Chances, mazes.

I’d learn the passion’s rules and ways,
Its source and matter,
I would repeat its lovely names,
Each single letter.

I’d plant a verse as park to grow.
In verbs and nouns
Lime-trees would blossom in a row,
Aligning crowns.

I’d bring to verses scents and forms
Of mint and roses,
Spring meadows, bursts of thunderstorms,
Hay stacks and mosses.

This way Chopin in the old days
Composed, infusing
The breath of parks and groves and graves
Into his music.

The triumph — agony and play —
The top, the brink.
The tightened bow-string vibrates —
The living string.

“Something I taught 12 yo: Pushing kids only works up till about the age of 18. If you want to do great things as an adult, you have to be able to push yourself. And if parents push kids too much, they may inhibit them from learning how to do this.”

I really liked this thought from Paul Graham. Alongside his posts on technology and entrepreneurship, he often posts about both his kids learnings, and his learnings as a father.

I liked this thought because it extends beyond lessons for raising kids: it can also be used as a tool for introspection and self-growth.

The key questions being: when, how, and to what extent have I learnt to push myself? And on what elements am I lacking and still need to work, practise, and develop?

In most places in the world, the chairs at cafes face one another.

In France, the chairs face outwards towards the footpath.

The subtle change in angle is powerful.

It sets different expectations, it refocuses the attention, and it’s a different way of experiencing the world.

There’s a meta reminder here: there’s nothing stopping us from changing the angle of our chairs; in other countries, and other walks of life.

“When in doubt, good health is always the priority.”—The Orange Book

I loved this little reminder.

“I hereby declare on my honour I have not had any of the following symptoms in the last 48 hours…”

It was fun discovering this line in the ‘Engagement sur l’honneur’—the form you need to fill out before entering France.

Although I’ve never declared something “on my honour” before—I like it. It definitely made me think more carefully about my answers compared to what I would’ve done had I been looking at a simpler sentence.

I have a feeling that was their goal all along.

Maru and I are on our way to France for the wedding of some good friends of ours.

Upon arrival at Heathrow, I realised it had been 18 months since I was last there.

Heathrow has always been a place of intense emotions for me.

Painful goodbyes. Overjoyed reunions. And profound anticipation at the prospect of returning home to see family.

Just pulling up to the airport and heading into the departures terminal conjures up these memories.

And then I realised, it has very little to do with Heathrow, and it has everything to do with the people who I get to see by walking through its doors.

That’s the Heathrow feeling.

Or… Maybe I’ve just watched ‘Love Actually’ one too many times.

“Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion’s starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don’t see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere.”

Here’s a simple rule to make almost all business writing better: put the last paragraph first.

We often bury the answer—requiring the reader to dig to get to the heart of the matter.

We all love a great ending, but business writing isn’t a story or a film.

In the middle of the sprint—at the peak of stress, when you’re straining with all your might—just focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

Once you pass the finish line, only then allow yourself to measure, to judge, to critique, and to determine what could’ve been done better.

When we ask these questions mid-sprint, the psychological game has already been lost.

There’s a time to sprint, and a time to reflect. Keeping our minds focused on the right thing in each of these periods is a super power.

I started seeing e-scooters popping up around London in 2018. They were already common in the US and in other parts of Europe at that point, but London was lagging.

They were illegal here; classified as “powered transporters” and so could only be used on private property.

Fast forward 3 years, and I now see dedicated e-scooter parking zones all around my borough.

The government is now heavily backing the adoption of e-scooters. The shift has been driven by 1) demand for more socially-distanced transportation, and 2) an appetite for a transition to greener modes of travel.

Ironically and confusingly, only government-backed e-scooter rentals are legal here. Privately owned e-scooters can still only be used on private property.

I think that’ll change eventually, but it’s interesting to see how quickly e-scooters have transitioned from public nuisance to progressive policy lever.

I’m all for it! E-scooters are a lot of fun.

I recently learnt about the incredible bar-tailed godwit: a little bird coming in at 38cm long and only 300-400 grams.

Each year they complete the longest known migration of any bird species: a journey of almost 10,000kms from New Zealand to Alaska (and on the way up to Alaska they also make a pit stop in China’s Yellow Sea!). All up, it takes them about 8 days, and during that time they don’t sleep or rest. The funny thing is they’re obese and prime athletes at the same time (they need the fuel for the flight).

Unfortunately, like many other species, the bar-tailed godwit population is declining. Scientists are tracking their migratory pathways to figure out what could be threatening their existence. It’s amazing to think that the survival of such an amazing bird depends on the health and biodiversity of 3 places as unique as New Zealand, China, and Alaska.

If you’re interested to learn more, here is a little 10 min documentary I enjoyed watching today.

When trying to grow, there are only a few moments that matter each day.

There are only a few moments of peak stress, or when patience is needed, or when we can run a little farther, or lift a little heavier.

We don’t grow when things are easy.

We need the new stimulus.

It pays to be aware of, and then optimise, around these few moments.

We’re on the cusp of October.

It’s my month of peak denial: summer can’t be gone yet.

So I try and fight winter in odd ways.

I’ll refuse to wear gloves when cycling.

I’ll venture out in a t-shirt.

I’ll “forget” to check the forecast.

But, inevitably, the cold bites.

It forces my numb, ungloved hands into submission. It warns me via a shivering episode to pack an extra layer.

And yet I still like winter wrestling.

It’s the summer bug in me in its last act of defiance.