So, I’m sitting here this morning in floods of tears; can’t stop.

I just got a copy of a letter from a coaching client, something I asked her to write to herself in recognition of who she had been during a difficult time two years ago.

And I’m crying in this weird combination of joy and amazement and poignancy.

The way it feels to be trusted enough for somebody to show me how magnificent they are in this way is almost too intense to describe. For them to get it too is the thing; that they know and believe this about themselves.

See, I really believe this about people - in fact, I have to believe it because I’m like that little boy in the film Sixth Sense, I see stuff that doesn’t always get seen. I look at somebody or I shake their hand or I hear their voice on the phone and I’m not actually seeing their outline or really even listening to their words. What happens to me is that I get washed over by this person’s courage or determination or humility or humanity or …

This is my gift and it’s not always been an easy one to handle. Making a living as a coach has been far from easy for me. And even then, I have doubts about the direction - would I be better placed to do this at the head of a bigger organisation, not coaching, just getting people to be all that they can be; what about that charity job, there are 1000’s of people who really need to have their magnificence made real.

Funny old game.

Are you a builder? I don’t mean, do you drive a white van badly, wear jeans with your bum hanging out and suck your teeth a lot.

What I mean is, do you like creating something that wasn’t there before? Do you like to ‘make your mark’? In the places you’ve been, the jobs you’ve had, the groups you’ve belonged to, did your presence make a difference?

I often forget how important this is to me. When I can’t do it, I get frustrated. Often, I forget that I can, that it’s just an intrinsic part of who I am. Sometimes, the people around me are waiting for me to get building - I look around me, not feeling particularly resourceful or creative or just kind of hurting a little from something that might have happened to me - and they’re going “well, come on then, do your stuff”; like they knew all along I was a builder.

This weekend I remembered I was a builder and built myself a new garden tool store; self-assembly, wooden thing - much more satisfying than the plastic stuff you see in all the DIY stores. Here’s a picture and a link - now get building!

Self-assembly garden tool store

“If ye love wealth better than liberty, the tranquility of servitude better than the animating contest of freedom, go home from us in peace. We ask not your counsels or arms. Crouch down and lick the hands which feed you. May your chains set lightly upon you, and may posterity forget that ye were our countrymen.”

Samuel Adams, speech at the Philadelphia State House, August 1, 1776

Last week I ran into my friend Justin Hughes. He’s a driven, focussed kind of guy and is a keen entreprenuer as well as an ex- Red Arrows pilot. Read more about him at the Mission Excellence site. While Justin was telling me how many all-nighters he’s been pulling to get ready for his next big event, he said something which threw me: “I wish I was a bit more like you and had this work/life balance thing sorted by now.”

Trouble was, this was no longer true. Last time Justin and I had been for a beer, I’d been planning my Friday day out with my 3-year old son, Alex. Every week since he was born, I’d spent Fridays playing with and caring for my son. But last Autumn, I’d got busier than usual and, one-by-one, my good balance habits got dropped.

After Justin left, I picked up my phone and re-arranged or cancelled the few things that were in my diary for last Friday - and I was able to at least spend the afternoon with my son. Even though it’s still busy and I’ll be out of the office mid-week, I’m going to take ths Friday out for my “Alex Day” as well. In six month’s time he’ll be off to school - and I won’t have this time again!

Isn’t wireless networking great?! Today I’m writing this in offices in the city centre of Manchester on a brilliantly blue-sky day. I’m enthralled again by the glamour, excitement and buzz of a thriving city. Meeting prospects, doing deals, dodging trams. My personal soundtrack of a city is George Benson’s “On Broadway” 

My wife and I moved to the Manchester suburbs about nine years ago to be near the burgeoning airport. 15 months before that, the IRA had detonated a huge bomb in Manchester city centre. This was clearly a traumatic event, but by the time we arrived the main feeling was one of renewal – time to rebuild, reshape. Now it feels like people in Manchester grabbed that chance to bring about a vibrant, chic and alluring new centre.