If you stand at the bottom and squint you can see what it’ll become
Transformed from a muddy mire into pyramids of green flecked with scarlet. A cage of juicy gems and jewels ready to pick. A crop of carefully tended chaos yielding a bounty borne from nothing.
A square plot of earth in the corner of a field bordered by ancient trees, patrolled by birds and ransacked by rabbits. A space to burn, destroy, grow and play together.
Build a rat trap. Make a bow and arrow. Fling mud pies at each other.
Learn how to use a post basher. Learn to light a fire with petrol with no lasting damage. Learn how to grow things.
Infuse all your possessions with wood smoke. Chase each other with sticks. Let things happen however things happen. It’ll all grow the same anyway.
Sit at the table and watch the dying embers, and feel like you’re really living.
Diving down deep then climbing back out
“Will you still be the same Daddy you are now?”
“What do you mean, my love?”
“Well, when you had your last job, I didn’t really see you very much…”
This time off work has been a blessing. I’ve been able to look back with horror at my mistakes and occasional pride at my successes. The luxury of being able to linger over what really matters has helped me feel washed clean.
Last summer, we took three weeks off for a family holiday. I’ve never had a holiday that long before.
We travelled by train across three countries. Our days were filled with lake side strolls, swims in crystal waters, and walks in the mountains. All powered by amazing food and evening ice creams.
This summer, we’re doing the same. For slightly less time, but with exactly the same plan.
One of the best days on our holiday was spent on the shore of the lake, building piles of rocks. The picture at the top was one of our creations.
When things got too hot or we needed a break, we’d sprint along the jetty and dive down deep into the water. We’d sink far enough to feel the shock of the depths and then climb out to warm up, dry out, and start again.
It was a brilliant day. And for some reason, it comes to mind when I think about how I want to be when I head back to work after our holiday:
I’m looking forward to diving down deep into a pool of interesting work. Lifting up some big rocks and using my skills to balance them and build them into something new.
But I’m determined to not stay down in the depths too long.
I want to climb back out so I can warm up in the glow of those that really matter the most.
An alabaster monolith of fun
Walk down the main road in Billund and you’ll spot it straight away. An alabaster monolith. But this one is hewn from fun, friendliness and play.
We’ve just come back from our second trip to Lego House: a place where everything really is awesome.
Inside you’ll find 25 million Lego bricks and (apart from the ones assembled into monumental models) you can play with all of them.
You’ll also find a team of the kindest and warmest people on the planet. Lots of places say they hire people with positivity and passion.
Often it’s just words. Not here. They all work at Lego House.
So thank you Lego Group. When sometimes it feels like the world is going to hell in a handcart, you’ve created a little oasis of care, kindness and happiness.
It really is my most favourite place on earth. Cannot wait to go back.
“Will you still be the same Daddy you are now?”
“What do you mean, my love?”
“Well, when you had your last job, I didn’t really see you very much…”
This time off work has been a blessing. I’ve been able to look back with horror at my mistakes and occasional pride at my successes. The luxury of being able to linger over what really matters has helped me feel washed clean.
Last summer, we took three weeks off for a family holiday. I’ve never had a holiday that long before.
We travelled by train across three countries. Our days were filled with lake side strolls, swims in crystal waters, and walks in the mountains. All powered by amazing food and evening ice creams.
This summer, we’re doing the same. For slightly less time, but with exactly the same plan.
One of the best days on our holiday was spent on the shore of the lake, building piles of rocks. The picture at the top was one of our creations.
When things got too hot or we needed a break, we’d sprint along the jetty and dive down deep into the water. We’d sink far enough to feel the shock of the depths and then climb out to warm up, dry out, and start again.
It was a brilliant day. And for some reason, it comes to mind when I think about how I want to be when I head back to work after our holiday:
I’m looking forward to diving down deep into a pool of interesting work. Lifting up some big rocks and using my skills to balance them and build them into something new.
But I’m determined to not stay down in the depths too long. I want to climb back out so I can warm up in the glow of those that really matter the most.
Visit the places that make the things you love
Take the fork off the main road and drive on into nowhere. Through the scrubby sandy forest down a twisty windy road.
Best to park near the pier. It’s the wrong end of town, but you’ll be rewarded with a coastal quest to your final destination.
Head down the high street. It’s 10 points for every Joules gilet you see, and 100 points for every London parking permit. But everyone’s welcome as long as they’re friendly.
If you’re lucky, you’re visiting in Winter. On a wet and windy Wednesday when you’re never quite warm enough and just being outside feels like a victory.
Left just after the shop. Down the road where my boys thought they saw spaceships peeking over the roofs.
Right, past the gates and over the green.
Go up and in, and straight to the bar. “A pint of Old please”
—
Walk onto the tarmac and up the steps. It’s been two decades since I went on propellor plane.
There are views out the window like the start of Jurassic Park, and when the plane swoops in to land it skims over a beach that looks like it goes on into infinity.
Turns out the place we’re staying is at the end of the airstrip. It’s warm with welcomes and smells of good cooking.
The drive to the start of our walk teaches us two things: Every road is single track. Every car that passes greets you with a single finger wave. You better wave back.
We’ll go past three, but the first one is the one we’ve come for.
You’ll smell it before you see it: old wood, soaked in spirit. It rolls down the hill like fog. There’s thousands of them, all silently slumbering next to the sea soaking in sun and spray for decades.
And then you see it. Whitewashed stone abuts crystal sea. Pagodas pour with smoke. We found a mermaids purse on the pebble beach. It’s better than you could imagine.
Head inside. Get a table with a view. Drink in your dram with your all senses.
—
Get there early and you’ll get to open the place. With a big red button cheered by smiling people. Everyone here is happy.
Your first task is climbing the stairs. It’s slow going. Not because it’s high, but because there’s too much to see. You’ll climb past a towering tree grown more care and craft than most people have in a lifetime.
Getting to the top is like tipping over one of those water rides, but instead you get drenched in fun and play. (You can literally swim here. We tried, but it hurts)
One day I overheard someone saying they were bored. What kind of person could be bored here?
Everything is made with care. Everything is made with fun. Even when you think you’re done there’s more to do.
Time slows. All there is to do is play. Build. Be.
Coffee and cake in the cafe and lunch served by robots. The food smells like a good hug feels.
Arrive before it opens, and leave when you’re politely asked to.
Back outside in the cold. Your face hurts from smiling and your fingers sting from building. Better go back again tomorrow.
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- The Red Lion, Southwold, UK via Southwold pier
- Laphroaig Distillery, Isle of Islay via the Three Distilleries Walk
- LEGO House, Billund, Denmark
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