Name: Jon Claydon Job: Executive chairman, Zulu Network Professional mission: If I told you, I'd have to shoot you Personal mantra: We pass this way but once
4.00am Wake up as internal personal organiser in the back of my head yells the big priority for the day. Drift off again until ...
7.00am Woken by my two-year-old hurtling into bed pursued by a bear, allegedly. Now ready for anything the day could possibly throw at me.
8.30am Drive to work in 1964 DB5 listening to the Today Programme. Stop in Hyde Park and make a couple of calls by the Serpentine.
9.00am Arrive at office. Skim all the papers. Banter wittily (I'm reliably informed) with nearby colleagues.
9.30am Zulu planning meeting. Martin Brooks (Tigger with brains) dispenses strategic priorities, while I politely guide the team's focus to sourcing World Cup tickets.
11.00am Meeting with potential Zulu acquisition target. The agency has momentum but the meeting is what golfers refer to as a "son-in-law" - alright, but not quite what we were hoping for. Omnicom pushes people chemistry above all.
12.00pm Gym with Dave Woods, the Claydon Heeley creative director.
1.15pm Lunch with Peter Mead. He reminds me not to confuse activity with progress and then applies some traditional wood-for-trees wisdom to a people issue that's been dogging us. Return convinced that I am now having a good day.
3.30pm Catch up with one of my non-executive directorships; a technology company launching a new file-sharing software. I play the role of part-time client and respectfully recommend this kind of sideline to any agency head.
5.00pm Downtime. Call children, gaze out of window, lose plot momentarily.
6.00pm Catch-up call with large client. Though happy with our work, we're under procurement pressure. I leave call until late in the day when conversations are longer and you learn more.
8.00pm Out to dinner with partner, Annie, and some colleagues from Tokyo. As a couple we make a contrasting, but complementary, hospitality team. She is charming, classy and understated and I'm squiffy and tactless.
11.00pm Home. Bed. Bob Dylan's autobiography. His grandmother tells him to be kind to everyone. Make mental note to be nicer and fall asleep anticipating next 4.00am internal alarm call.