The conversation I never got to have.

The conversation I never got to have

My dad, Patrick, passed away on a Monday. My son was born the following Monday. His middle name is Patrick. They'll never share the same room.

I can tell my boy that every Sunday morning, Dad religiously polished my football boots. That he made pancakes in animal shapes. That he told me to chew them properly — and I still have no idea why. I can tell him that Patrick was born in Thailand, that he took a boat to boarding school at eight with only his five-year-old brother for company, that he lost the sight in one eye at eleven.

I know all of that. What I don't know is how any of it felt. Or how it shaped the man who shaped me.

Those stories, in his voice, are gone. For me. For my son. For his kids one day.

That absence is what pushed me to build this. Not a recording service. Not a memoir project. A guided experience that gets families to sit down — properly sit down — and make time for the stories that matter, while the people who lived them are still in the room.

Why I built Me & My Old Man

I'm British, based near Barcelona, and I've spent the last few years sitting with families across seven countries — thirty-two of them so far, more than three hundred and fifty hours of recorded life. What I've learned is that the audiobook, in the end, is almost beside the point. Families come to me because they want a keepsake in their parent's voice. They leave with something they weren't expecting: a different relationship. Siblings who talked properly for the first time in years. A dad who felt heard maybe for the first time. A quiet permission to be a family again.

How I work with families

The work is high-touch and gently paced. I take a small number of families at a time. There's no checkout, no packages page, no hard sell. Everything starts with a short, free call — you tell me about your family, I tell you honestly whether this is something I can help with.

If any of this sounds like your family, I'd love to hear from you.

You always assume there's more time. There isn't. Give me twenty minutes and I'll tell you what's possible.