2nd August 2026

Opening Reflection

This week I was reminded that it has been twelve years since my stem cell transplant.

Twelve years.

Seeing that number written down stopped me in my tracks.

It is an ideal moment to reflect—not simply on what happened to me, but on everything that has happened since.

The first thing that struck me was how much of life we take for granted.

When the World Stood Still

When I think back to the time of my diagnosis and transplant, I can remember very clearly how the world seemed to stand still.

All the noise that normally occupies our lives disappeared.

The emails.

The meetings.

The bills.

The petty frustrations.

The things we convince ourselves are urgent.

None of them mattered.

When you are facing a life-or-death situation, the white noise of everyday living has no chance of getting through. Your attention becomes focused on the few things that truly matter.

Will I survive?

Will I see the people I love again?

What have I done with my life?

What would I regret leaving unfinished?

Those are very different questions from the ones that usually dominate our days.

The Relentless Noise of Modern Life

I have always believed that success depends partly on your ability to block out the white noise.

Most of our lives are now dominated by noise, and in this sophisticated digital age it can be relentless.

Notifications.

Messages.

Emails.

News alerts.

Social media.

Everybody and everything seems to demand an immediate response.

I have had to become increasingly disciplined about protecting my attention.

I turn off notifications.

I make sure my phone does not constantly ring.

My view is simple: I will deal with things when I choose to deal with them, rather than allowing myself to remain permanently on alert.

I do not believe living in a constant state of interruption is good for our thinking, our productivity or our wellbeing.

Technology is supposed to serve us.

We should not become servants to it.

The World I Might Never Have Seen

Looking back, I am in awe of how much the world has changed in twelve years.

Those are twelve years of life I might never have experienced.

Had I been born a decade earlier, the medical science that saved me may not have been available in the same way. I might never have seen the extraordinary advances that have taken place since my transplant.

That thought fills me with gratitude.

In twelve years, we have witnessed enormous changes in medicine, communication, business and technology.

And now we are entering the age of artificial intelligence.

I am genuinely grateful to be here to witness it.

Making the Impossible Possible

AI has opened up a world of possibilities for me, and I still feel that I am only scratching the surface.

But AI is a tool.

Like every tool, its value depends on the person using it.

A hammer is only useful if you know what you are trying to build. AI is no different.

What excites me most is the way it removes restrictions I once believed were permanent.

Because I left school without qualifications and struggled with traditional education, I often needed other people to help turn the ideas in my head into words on a page.

I relied on secretaries, assistants and copywriters.

That was expensive, time-consuming and sometimes frustrating. The thought might be clear in my head, but getting it into a form that other people could understand was another matter.

AI has changed that.

It helps me organise my thoughts.

It helps me communicate.

It allows me to explore ideas that once might have remained trapped inside my head.

For people like me, it has made the impossible possible.

What Have I Done With the Time?

The other thought that has stayed with me this week is the importance of purpose.

I have spoken about purpose many times, but an anniversary like this gives the subject a different weight.

What is the point of being given twelve additional years if you do not make use of them?

If I looked back and felt that I had simply drifted through those years, I would regard that as a terrible waste.

Fortunately, I can see things that would not have existed had I not survived.

I built the online farm shop.

I opened our physical farm shops.

I expanded The Black Farmer into new areas.

I created jobs.

I continued developing ideas and taking risks.

I wrote, spoke, challenged and tried to make a difference.

There are many other things, both personal and professional, but for me it is important to feel that the time has been put to good use.

That does not mean every day must produce a grand achievement.

It means living with intention.

It means having something that pulls you forward.

It means recognising that time is not an unlimited resource.

Achievement Is Personal

People measure achievement in different ways.

For one person, it may be building a company.

For another, it may be raising a family.

It may be caring for someone, creating something, teaching, serving a community or simply finding the courage to begin again after life has knocked you down.

Achievement is not always public.

Some of the greatest victories happen quietly.

But I do believe we all need a sense that our lives are moving towards something.

Purpose gives meaning to time.

Without it, years can pass without us ever asking whether we are truly living or simply existing.

Closing Reflection

Twelve years ago, my future was uncertain.

Today, I am still here.

Still building.

Still learning.

Still taking risks.

Still becoming excited by new ideas.

Still refusing to stand still.

I do not take that lightly.

The anniversary of my transplant is not simply a reminder of illness. It is a reminder of possibility.

It reminds me that life is precious, attention is precious and time is the most valuable asset any of us possess.

We cannot control how much time we are given.

But we can decide what we do with it.

My task now is the same as it has been throughout these twelve additional years:

to keep making the time count.

Onwards.