Easy Riding, Print Magazines, and Long Slumbers

Two wheels

There is no better creative machine than a bicycle. The humble bike is the Walkman of thought: you move through the world at just the right speed to observe it without being overwhelmed by it. Unlike driving, which demands your full attention, or walking, which gives your mind too much rope, cycling flicks between survival and daydream in a rhythm that somehow breeds insights.

I have solved briefs, resolved marital disputes, and mentally drafted wedding speeches while dodging potholes on Waterloo Bridge. There’s something in the on-off cadence: worry about the roundabout, return to your existential crisis; look over your shoulder, then back to that script you can’t crack. And this weird cognitive ping-pong ends up making progress.

It is also, incidentally, free, good for the planet, and beats the tube any day of the week. Not bad for a bit of Victorian metal and rubber.

The Week (and the Bath)

There’s something wonderfully un-modern about The Week. A printed magazine. Arrives by post. Summarises everything. It’s like having the world’s best dinner party guest compress the week’s chaos into one articulate monologue. No scrolling. No algorithms. No one screaming in all caps. Just information curated with care and blessedly free from performative outrage.

But the magic lies in where I read it. The bath. The combination is important. One is content. The other is context. Reading The Week in a hot bath is a kind of intellectual flotation tank. It’s adland therapy. In those 30 minutes before the water cools, I get a view of the world outside our industry bubble. Politics, science, literature, dog shows. I’ve had more ideas leap from those pages, in that steam, than in any brainstorm or away day.

It’s the original infinite scroll — but with hot water and lavender scented magnesium salts.

Zzzzz

There is a myth in our industry that the best work is done at 3am, surrounded by Red Bull cans and emotional damage. Nonsense. The best work is done after eight hours in bed and ideally a nap after lunch. Sleep isn’t a luxury. It’s creative fuel. And we’ve been starving ourselves for years.

The most confident, lucid, alert version of myself is the well-rested one. He’s bolder, smarter, better at metaphors. He gets on with clients. He writes faster. He doesn’t hate his job or fantasise about opening a dippy egg cafe. I sometimes meet him after 7.5 hours of uninterrupted rest and a strong black coffee. He’s a revelation.

Honestly, it’s time for offices to bring back the nap room. Don Draper had it right. Sofa. Whisky optional. Let people recharge. Good sleep is the ultimate software update.

If you want to supercharge your creative department: cancel one brainstorm and send everyone to bed.