This is a collection of observations, reflections and small moments that shape how I see the world and how I work.
They are not case studies.
They are not polished outputs.
They are simply things I’ve noticed along the way.
This is a collection of observations, reflections and small moments that shape how I see the world and how I work.
They are not case studies.
They are not polished outputs.
They are simply things I’ve noticed along the way.
The golden egg near London Bridge
A note on attention
I was cycling home one evening through London when I stopped at a set of traffic lights near London Bridge.
The sun was low, the sky was clear, and I looked up.
On top of a building, catching the light, was a golden egg.
I had never noticed it before, despite passing that route many times.
It made me think about how much of the world we walk past without seeing.
Not because it isn’t there—but because we are not looking up.
A few minutes later, cycling towards the Shard, I saw the building in a completely different light.
It looked almost like it had been designed for that exact moment in time.
And then, as I moved closer, the image changed again.
What felt like a single beam of light became structure, windows, detail.
It reminded me that understanding shifts as perspective changes.
That distance creates meaning, and proximity changes it again.
Why I cycle to work
A reflection on thinking
Every day I cycle across London to get to work.
People often assume it is about fitness or routine.
For me, it is something else entirely.
It is the space where I think.
Between movement, traffic lights, and familiar streets, ideas begin to settle.
Problems become clearer when I am not trying to solve them directly.
By the time I arrive at the studio, I already know what needs attention.
I don’t start my day with meetings.
I start it by writing my thoughts on stickies.
That is where thinking becomes visible.
Rupert
A reminder about care
A few months ago, my son brought home a pigeon with a broken wing.
We called him Rupert.
Most people would have said no.
We didn’t.
We cared for him, helped him recover, and slowly he learned to fly again.
For weeks he lived with us, adapting to being part of the house, even learning to sit on my son’s shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
One day, we took him to Tooting Common.
He flew away and didn’t come back.
It reminded me that care is not always about holding on.
Sometimes it is about helping something return to where it belongs.
A studio in Helsinki
A note on leadership
Early in my career, I was asked to run a workshop with a design team in Helsinki.
The brief was simple: bring clarity to the design direction for the year.
Everything was put up on the wall.
I left it there overnight.
The next day, I invited the wider team in and walked them through it slowly, explaining the thinking and opening it up for discussion.
The most important part was not the presentation.
It was the continuation of the conversation afterwards—sharing material, refining ideas, and keeping people involved in the process.
It taught me something I still believe:
People rarely resist what they understand.
Seeing differently
A reflection on change
One of the most important things I’ve learned is that perspective is not fixed.
It changes with distance, context and attention.
In organisations, I see this all the time.
Different teams often look at the same thing but see entirely different realities.
Part of my role is to help those perspectives meet.
Not by forcing agreement, but by making ideas visible enough that people can understand one another.
When that happens, things begin to move.
A thought
I don’t believe creativity is about having more ideas.
I believe it is about noticing more of what is already there.
The world is full of signals, stories and patterns.
We just don’t always take the time to see them.
This journal is a record of that practice.
Of paying attention.
And of trying to understand what others might have missed.