I would not like them here or there,
I would not like them anywhere,
I would not like them cold or hot,
I would not like them from this pot,
I do not like green peas
I do not like them Sam, now let me be
Author: Andrew (Page 22 of 43)
Amongst the friends and conversation and laughter and music we raised over $1500 for our first good.well project.
April 30th at Café Agora was the celebration of my 40th birthday. With all honesty it was really just a great opportunity to raise money and awareness for the Good Trust, and to raised funds to build clean water wells for a communities off shore.
Thanks heaps to everyone who came and donated.
Thanks to the team at Café Agora.
Finally and a huge thanks to Luke and Linden (pictured) and Alice Cunninghame.
It seemed that the sun rose late, and was cloaked behind the fog that had lowered amongst the autumn leaves.
As it lifted later that morning, it unveiled an amazing autumn day.
Sometimes in life, amazing things, beautiful things are cloaked by the murkiness of life.
A miniature field, a smaller ball, tiny goals and two groups of four boys bunched around the ball. That’s 4 to 5 year old soccer.
It was our first cold, rainy day of the soccer season. The grass fields combine with the rain to create mud and havoc for the boys as the trip over every third time they touch the ball.
There is actually quite a contrast between being a parent at soccer and a parent at hockey. Hockey is played on aquaturf, it's clean and there is shelter and food available. There are seats to sit on and railings to lean against. At soccer you stand in the elements with minimal facilities.
My family were over and supported Kyla’s hockey and Jayden’s soccer. They got wet and cold. I’m sure for my parents it was a trip down memory lane.
They were their biggest supporters for the day, and I am reminded that they are some of my biggest supporters as well!
I can still remember Sharon a colleague at New Zealand Couriers walking into my office, seeing the paper and piles everywhere and boldly proclaiming she had no idea how I could find anything or how I got anything done.
It was my first office, and on reflection, to call it organised chaos was gross misuse of the term. It was anything but organised.
I took this photo of my desk one evening after four days of unexpected and intensive investigation into deep dark hole of bad stuff. In amongst the crisis, things started to pile up and I reverted to my naturally messy state of operation.
I have learnt over the years that messy is very unproductive.
- A messy desk leads to a cluttered mind.
- A cluttered mind leads to heaps of ‘open-loops’. Things that are not captured in a place I trust.
- Open-loops lead to a greater feeling of stress and pressure, as I am subconsciously aware of all the commitments I am missing.
- Stress and pressure, burn energy at triple speed and make me unproductive.
It has taken me a full 10 days to get my systems back on track with my GTD system. Inboxes empty, tasks captured, notes reviewed.
The difference in the clarity of my mind is undefinable.
The final in my Monday series showing the change of seasons.
Huge change in our tree outside over six weeks, along with a huge change in the light.
See all 6 at http://www.andrewnicol.net/mondays/
An awesome 40th birthday with my wife and kids.
Up at 5am for the ANZAC day dawn parade. It was a still misty poignant setting and a reminder that “freedom is never free”. Someone must always pay the price for freedom.
In the evening we headed out to Raglan to watch the sun set on the west coast of NZ, and eat fish and chips. A beautiful evening.
A fantastic day. (Even if I am now in my mid life)
A late night at work, with 3 of the team.
Not a good reason for a late night either.
All leaders are readers!
In some way shape or form they are. Even in this information age of podcasts and audiobooks and youtube, leaders are readers.
This is a shot of my work bookshelf. My books are available to borrow. Take them, learn from them, stretch your thinking.
Read.
My signatures are funny things. For instance I have four scribbles I call a signature. I have my initials scribble, my ‘Andrew’ scribble, my general letter scribble and my bank scribble. The picture scribble is none of the above, but they are all different, all unreadable, but all my mark.
The use of signatures date back thousands of years. They are my mark, a thing that identifies me. In the flick of a pen I acknowledge my agreement, my commitment, my obligation.
Today, I was thinking as I signed a new large contract we won recently, how most people sign very few things. Signing letters has been replaced with email, or txt, or verbal. Signing cheques replaced with pin numbers and credit cards.
Personally, when I sign a document, I make sure I am comfortable with my obligations and commitment, because it is ‘in writing’.
Yet my verbal commitment should always be just as strong as my signed commitment. My word should carry the same weight as my mark.