Wednesday 5 December 2012

River's Up


When the Larsen B ice shelf (an area the size of Wales) broke away from the Antarctic continent before the last millennium I knew the game was up as far as the environment was concerned, so I wrote River's Up commissioned by Alan Ayckbourn for the Stephen Joseph Theatre, about a middle-aged couple who lived by the River Severn in Worcester, who suddenly find themselves caught up in a cataclysmic global event when the flood waters don't recede.   It has since been produced by the Swan Theatre, Worcester, had a critically acclaimed BBC Radio production, two sell-out productions in Rome, where it is called Effetto Serra, and a rural tour with Oxfordshire Theatre Company, 2009.  It is sobering to think I wrote this play back in 2000, before the recent dreadful flooding in Worcester, when I found myself stuck in my home town of Malvern completely surrounded by water and cut off from the outside world.  Following the recent floods over the last couple of weeks (which are now becoming an annual occurrence), I thought I might try and plug the play again and try and get another production; but it is notoriously difficult for lesser known playwrights to get second productions, for some reason theatres like to have world premieres of plays.  But the play has proved itself and the subject matter is current, and as far as I am concerned really important.  I have been an environmental campaigner for as long as I can remember; more especially involved with Greenpeace, and therefore the state of the planet is something I have been writing about for some time, it's is an issue I feel passionately about and have been addressing dramatically for many years.  The first play I wrote touching on this subject was Canned Peaches In Syrup, a Romeo And Juliet story concerning a cannibal and vegetarian tribe set in a world fractured by global warming, which I wrote in the dressing room of the Birmingham Rep. This play has had many readings in this country, but no production here yet; a couple of near misses though, including the offer of a production at Nottingham Playhouse following a week of workshopping, but my agent at the time turned it down for a (supposedly) better opportunity which sadly never came off.  But the play had its world premier in America some years ago with fantastic reviews and was published there too; there was also a great production of the play in Italy.  I've been pushing this play for a while and more particularly River's Up, and always have great feedback; a few years ago though the literary manager of a major theatre contacted me after reading River's Up to tell me how much he'd enjoyed it, but couldn't offer a production as they had just been offered a script that was similar; "Actually," he said, sounding a little confused, "It's really very similar, amazingly similar in fact."  He then asked me about the history of the play and was suddenly very guarded about their upcoming production and steadfastly refused to reveal the name of the writer.  The production never happened, but alarm bells were ringing for me.  It's tough when things like this happen, and the possibility that someone out there might be simply ripping off your work is something that is so upsetting it can ruin you as a writer; make you depressed and question the point of writing anything at all.  So I'm still forging ahead with that play, and hope that I can get its message out there again, because as I said, the issues are really heartfelt.  Below is the synopsis:

'Tom and Sally Millington’s house is about to be flooded yet again!  Sally is worried and blames the icebergs, though Tom seems more concerned about the drunken Brummie revellers he has to sail up the Severn every weekend on his disco-boat.  But this time the water level shows no sign of retreating, and before long they’re drifting around a watery Worcester searching for the Malvern Hills.  Perhaps their resourceful son-in-law, Darren has made it to France with Caroline and little Sean and Jessica - it's a long way, but what choice do they have?  The irrepressible Millington's begin to realise they are witnessing the results of a global cock-up.  Join them on their poignant journey in a dilemma that pits them against cataclysmic odds in a comic/tragedy of epic proportions...'

Sunday 2 December 2012

You've got to laugh


I bumped into a local guy yesterday whom I hadn't seen for some time.  He asked how I was, so I told him 'I was doing fine now thanks.'  He hadn't heard that I'd been in hospital and had surgery, so I explained that I was recovering from cancer.  He asked me what kind and when I told him, he looked shocked and said, "Christ, you poor sod, it's incurable, that one!"  Since my diagnosis there's been many an occasion when someone has unintentionally 'put their foot in it' when I told them about my condition: my neighbour for instance noticed that I was looking a bit peaky and when I explained my diagnosis, she blurted out, "No, my dad died of that!" and then quickly added, "Oh, but you won't!"  I later had a card from her with the cheery message - "Let's hope they've got it in time!"  The night before I was admitted, my brother rang, "Well," he asked thoughtfully, "how do you think the operation will go?"  "Well Steve," I answered, "I'm hoping that it goes well."  When I finally got home following surgery and many complications, my sister rang to see how I was settling in, informing me that a cousin of ours we hadn't seen for many years had exactly the same cancer.  "How did it go?" I asked, totally sympathising with anyone who had to go through what I had suffered for many long weeks, "They got it," she told me, "but it came back again," she continued with dead pan seriousness.  Obviously it wasn't something I wanted to hear at that particular moment, and so I ended the call rather quickly.  Realising it probably wasn't a very good idea to break such uncomfortable news while I was still recovering, she rang back to tell me that - "They got it the second time, though... and er, I think he's all right now... but I haven't heard from him for ages so I can't be absolutely sure, but I think he's in the clear."  And when a mate of mine from Birmingham heard I was going to hospital, she rang to wish me luck, while assuring me that she wouldn't be praying for me because God doesn't exist.  I have to say the best reaction to my illness was the night I told my fellow band members.  After rehearsal, the night before my hospital admission I informed them I wouldn't be hanging out with them for a while and that I had colon cancer.  The room fell silent, no one knew quite what to say, but eventually our drummer announced, "I'm not surprised, you've had this coming is all I can say - I've told you about shoving bottles up your arse!"  Brilliant!  The one quip that literally made me laugh out loud, irreverent and totally what I needed at that moment...  By the way, the bottle thing - it's not true.

Wednesday 21 November 2012

The Girl In The Box


There was a news story today that was deeply disturbing, citing that there are thousands of children being abused by gangs and groups in England every year.  The Office of Children's Commissioner study says there were 2,409 victims in the 14 months to October 2011, but the true number is likely to be far higher.  This report doesn't surprise me at all; I've been exploring these issues for a while for a play I wrote last year for East 15 drama school called The Girl In The Box.  Following that of course there came the horrific revelations about the Rochdale girls who were groomed, raped and abused by a Pakistani gang.  But it's all sorts of gangs that are involved in this sort of thing, and more often than not it can actually be teenage gangs that are exploiting very young girls too.

Some years ago I was paid to research a play that was commissioned for The Fetch Theatre Company about drug use in rural counties, and before long I was meeting users, carers, gang members and prostitutes.  The stories of the people I met were sad, moving and sometimes brutal.  But above all one person left a lasting impression on me; a young woman who had been groomed, hooked on heroin, and subjected to sexual acts that I couldn't quite comprehend.  Of course in city and urban towns, these problems are even greater and after seeing a documentary concerning the abuse of young girls by gangs, I knew it was a subject (as dark as it was) that I had to tackle, and so I began to investigate it as best I could.  It is worrying enough to even acknowledge that young girls could be subjected to such hellish ordeals, but this stuff really is happening all around us and we can't afford to turn our backs on it.  I hope my play in some small way shines a light on these significant issues and highlights a problem that we can no longer afford to ignore.  It's a dark play; even darker than my play Noise, and there is one particular event that has never been portrayed on stage before, but it's something that really happened to someone.  Sometimes the truth can be truly shocking, and for that reason alone we can't afford to ignore it; particularly when it affects the vulnerable and abused in our society.  I hope I can get a company to produce the play sometime, because it's an honest portrayal of something that our theatres should be addressing.  Below is a short description of what the play is about:

Monique sees X-Factor as an escape route from a life 'in care'; her best friend, Mel is keeping her options open and is seriously considering 6th form.  But Monique's ex boyfriend, gang member, Sam has other plans for them; unleashing a sequence of disturbing events that lead all the way to the girl in the box - A modern day parable tackling the worrying trend of sexual exploitation of vulnerable girls by gangs, and the dark consequences of drug crime.

Tuesday 13 November 2012

Goodbye Mum


Today is the anniversary of my mum's death.  She died of cancer a few years ago, and boy do I miss her still.  I couldn't get over to the cemetery in the Black Country where she is buried, so I thought I would post this poem that I wrote about her as a kind of tribute, I guess.  I was there with her at the end of her life, and although she was amazingly brave, it was tough - how can those last moments be anything else?  The poem is called, Goodbye Mum.

GOODBYE MUM

The morphine kicks in,
Liquid lull of warm blood, mixing, melding,
Rinsing those last corpuscles of thought.

You are drifting away from me,
Bleary eyed,
Scared,
Tired and weary...
You are drifting away from me.

I hold your hand,
Knowing that I'll never be able to do this again,
Because you are drifting away,
And love and memory hammers at my heart and brain
As I feel the tremble of life in your fingers, fade...

Goodbye Mum,
God bless
And great big hugs.

Monday 5 November 2012

It's the ecology, stupid!


On the eve of the American election, I'm hoping that Obama gets another term, because the thought of Mitt Romney as the next President is just too dreadful to contemplate; his acerbic rhetoric when talking about issues such as Iran sounds so much like Bush that alarm bells are ringing for me; frankly he sounds plain stupid.  The fact that there have been so many stupid American Presidents before him leads me to wonder how the American public can be so gullible when picking their prospective candidates, but I guess the fact that money plays such an important part in the race to the White House means that a person's intellectual attributes aren't particularly what is going to help them get elected - money talks, and in America it seems you need an awful lot of money behind you if you want to be President, not leaving American citizens with much of a choice.  I don't think Obama has been a great President though; in fact his term has been rather disappointing.  We all believed that the first black President might actually herald a new approach to American policy throughout the world, but he didn't close Guantanamo as he had promised, and he increased military capacity in many areas of the planet; including Afghanistan, a war that we hoped he might bring to a speedy conclusion.  Also his health reforms have failed miserably, but I do appreciate this is also because he is penned in somewhat by a hostile congress.  But for me the single most important issue that any American President should be focussed on is the environment, and I've yet to hear either candidate discuss this matter.  America and China are the two big superpowers that are most guilty of polluting the planet, but they both obstinately refuse to take responsibility for their actions, which have massive implications, especially for drought-stricken areas of the Third World.  The fact that extreme weather patterns are affecting all of us now in very significant and disturbing ways makes me wonder why the environment isn't right at the very top of every political agenda; but anything that might affect the economy of a country as powerful as the US just isn't going to make it on to the list of 'things to do'.  Rather disturbingly one of Obama's spokesmen announced that climate change would not be a major campaigning issue for Democrats, and this was while the US was recovering from the devastating effects of Hurricane Sandy; an extreme weather event that scientists agree is a direct result of carbon emissions affecting the planet's eco-system.  But right from the very beginning of his Presidency, Obama steadfastly refused to commit to any reduction in emissions, and along with China were the only two countries that did not sign up to the Copenhagen agreement just after his election.  I think it's wonderful for the American people that they have a black President at last; it was a significant moment in the history of that country, and an example to the world that they had overcome their own prejudices, thanks in no small part to the struggles of the civil rights movement; but I do believe he was awarded the Nobel Prize a little prematurely; surely it was incumbent on those involved in the selection process to wait a while to see exactly what he might actually achieve in a job where he wielded so much power, and what he might contribute in the way of world peace.  He definitely in my opinion let us down with regards to the environment, and at the time of the Copenhagen summit I was concerned enough to write a letter to The Guardian newspaper titled - 'It's the environment stupid!'  It was never printed, but here it is anyway...

'Prime Minister Brown, President Obama and rest of our world leaders are obsessed with saving the global economic system, when what they should be focusing their energies on is saving the globe itself.  The reason our planet is facing a potential catastrophe is a direct result of market economies, which by their very structure have no interest in the future results of global warming, as there is no short-term financial benefit to be made from investing in something which has no instant return.  Surely this is a perfect moment in our history for the whole planet to pause and consider why we are where we are, and not how do we get to where we were before.  It's time for a change and to seriously debate the whole structure of commerce and technology; radical ideas such as doing away with personal transport all together, and actually paying third world countries to maintain the great rainforests that we all depend on for the very air we breathe.  Radical ideas for radical times, but I think its time to face the truth - President Clinton was wrong: it's not the economy - it's the ecology, stupid!'

Thursday 1 November 2012

50 Shades Of Black


I have a play on in London that is doing rather well.  A couple of months ago I was contacted out of the blue by the producer of the 'Terror Season' at Soho Theatre to contribute something for the event.  It turned out that he had heard about from me my association with the 'In Yer Face' group of writers and from my play Noise which was a big hit at Soho some years ago.  Terror is the UK's only annual festival of horror theatre and they have had some great writers contribute, so it was good to be asked.  The idea I came up was 50 Shades Of Black, a dark comic satire on that book - 50 Shades Of Grey.  Sarah and Lucy and I went down to London to see it together with some friends and made a weekend of it, taking in a few exhibitions too, including the Pre Raphaelite exhibition at Tate Modern; but I discovered that I had pretty much seen most of the paintings there previously, which were loaned from Birmingham and other galleries I had visited quite a lot.  It was interesting to see them all together in one complete collection though; it gave a good perspective of the whole movement I suppose; Millais still stands out for me as being the definitive painter amongst them; amazing visual technique and vivid use of colours.  This year's 'Terror Season' as a whole has had mixed reviews, but my play seems to have been singled out by some of the critics as worthy of mention, including a particularly good review in 'The Telegraph'.  It's good to have a play of mine out there again, particularly in London, and more particularly at Soho the scene of past triumphs.  I think there was some merit in parodying that book as well; it's baffling to me how something like that has become so popular - a soft porn world wide publishing sensation about S&M that's not even well written; and I'll bet if you haven't read it yourself you know someone who has.  So even though the brief was to write a short play that was essentially about scaring the audience in an entertaining way, I also saw it as an opportunity to take a pop at something I think is culturally rather dubious at the same time.  Other good news - recent blood tests were normal, so I can relax now for another 6 months!

Thursday 11 October 2012

A chink of light


There was a news item recently that really upset me and I can't stop thinking about it.  A young girl went to a wine bar to celebrate her 18th birthday and drank a cocktail that was concocted using liquid nitrogen; a few hours later in terrible pain she was rushed to the hospital where she was told they had to remove her stomach or she would die.  I can't begin to comprehend what that must feel like for her, because her life will now be changed forever in a really profound way, and all because of a drink!  I have personal experience now of abdominal surgery, and I can tell you it's bloody painful, and like her I had no choice; if I hadn't had that operation I wouldn't be here now.  But what she is going to have to endure is way beyond anything I went through, and the consequences for her mean that she will never be able to function normally again; life can so cruel sometimes, but stuff like this shouldn't have happened to a little girl; because that is what she is - a little girl just turned eighteen, studying at sixth form with the rest of her life before her, and it is so tragic and unfair, and all because someone had the bright idea of constructing a colourful alcoholic cocktail that foamed and bubbled, to entice young people to drink.  I know now just how important a healthy gut is and how devastating it is for some people when cancer or other illnesses affect the stomach.  From the day I was informed of my cancer I never cried; I just for some reason apologised relentlessly to my wife, Sarah, because I somehow felt I was letting her down; worrying how she'd cope if I didn't come through it and all that kind of stuff.  And all through the pain and indignity of the whole medical process I somehow held it together.  But what affected me more than anything was seeing other patients in the ward who were really suffering much more than me; hearing them cry out in pain, clamping my hands over my ears as a doctor was breaking the bad news to a guy in the next bed that his illness was terminal, watching people struggle with the reality of having to face the rest of their lives with a bag stuck to their side.  But one guy in particular, called John really got to me; early twenties, he was a handsome kid, though terribly thin because he had had the whole of his large intestine removed and was in constant pain.  Every day his beautiful young wife whom he had just married would come and sit by him, stroking his forehead as he slipped into a welcome torpor as the morphine hit him - and believe me after a few hours of that kind of pain you long for that morphine shot.  He had been in hospital for a month, and things kept going wrong for him; constant emergencies where he would be rushed back into surgery and they would cut away yet another piece of his stomach.  He had a stoma, which he would have to cope with for the rest of his life, and many other complications that I won't go into; needless to say he was suffering a great deal.  I got to know him quite well, and we'd talk about stuff, football mostly; especially as we were both West Brom supporters, and one day after spending hour after hour vomiting up green bile, struggling to breath through his pain, he declared - "I just want a chink of light; just want to know that things'll get better than this one day... just a chink of light."  That stuck with me and always will, because it sort of summed up what we were all looking for in that hospital ward - a chink of light to signify we were on the mend and might one day recover and get back to our loved ones.  When I did eventually come home, frail and wasted and weighing less that eight stone, I sat on the sofa with Sarah and Lucy, not quite believing I was back, feeling somewhat disorientated and shell-shocked, and Lucy asked me what it had been like, and so I began to relate various stories about my treatment and of the other patients in there, and then I told her about John and how badly he was suffering and suddenly and for the first time since my diagnosis I found myself weeping inconsolably, sobbing and choking just remembering the poor guy and how fate had torn his life to shreds.    I find it strange that when some people learn that you have had bowel cancer one of the first questions they ask is "have you got a bag?"  What's that about?  Why do they want to know?  What business is it of theirs anyway?  It so happens that I escaped that particular trauma, but I now know people who do have to cope with it, and I think they're really brave, and I know that most of them would prefer to keep that piece of information to themselves, because why would you want to discuss something so personal with anyone other than your family?  I have always felt uncomfortable when someone jokes about disability, and the colostomy bag has always been a target for a cheap laugh - well you never know one day you or someone close to you might just find themselves having to carry one around stuck to their abdomen, then I think the reality of having to live with 'a bag' may just make those jokes feel rather unpleasant and tasteless.
And now I find myself crying for a person I don't even know - a young girl for whom a chance event has left her forever dependent on medical help; her stomach has gone and I don't need to point out what that would mean to a young woman just beginning her journey into adulthood; the implications are just too horrible to contemplate, but the poor soul will have to learn to live life in a very different way from here on.  God damn any fool who would take smallest risk with such a young life by selling them something so inherently risky as a drink that is made using liquid nitrogen!  The alcohol industry sees our young people as potential consumers, and something like this is the consequence of their cavalier attitude when trying to reel them in.  I hope that she finds her chink of light eventually, but my God the poor girl has got a momentous task in front of her. 


Sunday 2 September 2012

Glorious 9th


Some work at last!  Just a few days acting, some radio drama for the BBC at the Mailbox in Birmingham, but it's the first booking for ages and I'm anxious to get back to it.  Also good to meet up with fellow performers; I'm not really very good at the 'networking stuff' and consequently don't bother attending some of the events where those things happen, so I tend to lose touch a bit with what's going on locally, including a few castings.  Some great dramatic scenes for me though playing the villain again - I love it!  I bumped into an old friend while I was there - the producer Rosemary Watts, who very kindly arranged the choir music in my radio play A Miracle In No Man's Land some years ago.  She sings in a choir herself, and so I asked if she had anything coming up, and it turned out that her choir was at Symphony Hall that very evening performing in Beethoven's 9th Symphony, conducted by Andris Nelsons, and Rosemary thought there might be a chance of picking up a return ticket or two if I turned up early enough.  I love Beethoven, and the 9th has always been a piece of music I've wanted to hear live - I knew I couldn't miss this opportunity, so I rang Sarah and Lucy: they hopped on a train and I met up with them in town following my recording and we hung around the box office for absolutely ages waiting for returns... but they were all too expensive, we could only afford the cheap seats.  However after a while someone took pity and sold me a £20.00 ticket for a tenner and then another, finally just before the performance someone else turned up at the box office with a return and the woman at the booth pointed me out, saying that I had been waiting all afternoon and would he consider selling it to me; it was pretty much the best seat in the hall and way out of our financial reach, but the guy shrugged, grinned and said he could see how much I wanted to see the performance, so he didn't want anything for it - he gave me it!  And so I sat just above the orchestra and was just blown away by the whole experience.  The evening began with a short tender piece by Brahms called Nänie, which I've never heard before, but was quiet moving, the choir really hitting a poignant spot for me, lots of colour and delicate tones.  And then - the 9th!  Wow - it was incredible; I know it so well, but to actually experience it live was an event I will never forget.  Nelsons is a brilliant conductor, I couldn't take my eyes off him; he conducted the orchestra with his whole body: his face was bright with emotion, expressions changing with each bar, sometimes stern, sometimes pleading, sometimes joyous, often he would clench his baton in his fist and literally jump up and down like a mad general, the next moment he would be leaning over his score reaching into the string section as if he was pulling the music out of the instruments himself; energetic and personal summed him up - he was living the score, feeling the nuances, experiencing them and translating them into sublime sounds - amazing.  The soloists too played their parts to perfection: I was anticipating that bass voice which begins the vocal section, but when it eventually came and Georg Zeppenfeld's deep rich sound filled the hall, it took my breath away, and then of course came that intricate balance of tenor (Toby Spence), mezzo-soprano (Mihoko Fujimura) and soprano (Lucy Crowe) which just sent shivers and shudders straight through me, and then - that massive choir and the 'Ode To Joy' just erupted like a musical volcano, and together with the titanic orchestra of the CBSO it eventually reached Beethoven's amazing climax.  It's the first time I have heard the 9th other than on a recording, but I don't think it has ever or will be played as well again; I just can't imagine it.  I can't stop reliving the whole evening, the music is still ringing in my head - I've even been dreaming about it - one of those things you should do before you die has now been ticked of my list.  Thank you Andris Nelsons and the CBSO and the generous stranger who gave me his ticket...  I'm not bothered if I ever hear it played live again, that will do for me.

Sunday 26 August 2012

Dolphin and chips

Had a holiday at last, just a week in Wales (all we could afford) with Sarah and Lucy and some friends; good stuff though - lots of great walking, some spectacular coastal paths along steep cliffs around Cardigan Bay and thereabouts, checking out the local wildlife, which includes dolphins and seals too!  Also visited Cors Caron nature reserve, an amazing landscape of raised peat bog that unfortunately is so rare now... and it was breathtakingly beautiful: deep pools flanked by reed beds, cotton grass and wild flowers.  We had to go back a few times because it was so very unique, walking through it was almost like stepping back through time; our landscape was once liberally peppered with such sites, remote and teeming with wildlife.  Sadly Britain's wetlands have all but disappeared, and recently we have government ministers openly discussing developing the greenbelt, the last peaceful refuge for town dwellers.  But once something like that is gone it's gone forever, and I can't help wondering why the countryside isn't given more protection, because without that bolt hole to escape to from the pressures of work and everyday life what do we have left?  A conflagration of towns, a massive road network and shopping malls that pretty much look the same wherever you happen to be.  Anyway, I managed to recharge my batteries and put a few bad memories behind me for a while, breathe in some good Welsh air and ate some fantastic fish and chips too while watching harbour porpoises dip and dive in Newquay harbour... I really like fish and chips.

Thursday 9 August 2012

Doctor Rock!

Healing slowly, but still have blood tests ahead.  In the meantime I've been working on getting fit again and have been out running; just between four and five miles at the moment, but a lot of it uphill because you can't really avoid that living in Malvern!  I used to go running regularly with the Malvern Hash Harriers - a running club that meets at a country pub somewhere different every week; we all then run a circular route, mostly across country and often through some tough terrain, but always ending at the same pub for a pint and a bite to eat; good fun, but it clashes with my band rehearsal night, so unfortunately I had to make a choice.  It's been good to be to hanging out with the band again though, and it's one thing that I was looking forward to getting back to when I was recovering in hospital.  In fact the day before I went into hospital we had a band rehearsal and recording session, and rather than spend the night at home, fretting and thinking the worst I decided to go - a good decision; positive adrenalin, although telling the guys I wouldn't be around for a while was hard... they knew something was up though, because I hadn't been in the pub with them for a while.  We're called The Dirty Harry Band and I'm the lead vocalist, we play mainly rock standards I guess - a mixture of stuff that includes Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, Sex Pistols, The Clash, The Foo Fighters, etc. and we're always adding to the list.  We played a private party recently, which was my first chance to perform after my op: a gig in a beautiful massive garden on a fantastic sunny day; loads of people dancing and whooping for more - we was good!  And this last weekend we did a couple of gigs for the 'Malvern Rocks' festival in aid of Acorns - the local children's hospice; a cause given what I've been through recently that's important to me.   It's great to be up on stage again, jumping around, screaming my head off and generally acting like a demented kid half my age; I couldn't quite imagine it a few months ago - just what the doctor ordered really!  

Sunday 15 July 2012

And God said let there be particles

We learnt last week that the Higgs Boson particle is no longer so illusive - it actually exists.  It really is a momentous discovery and from here on the science of quantum physics is going to become very interesting, because this is the starting pistol that will send scientists flying off in all sorts of directions to find its brother and sister particles, and from there perhaps make discoveries that will reveal the secrets of creation and the very fabric of existence.  For me there is something almost spiritual about this stuff; the mystical quality of the quantum world and its various strange properties: particles that seemingly blink in and out of existence, the many peculiar dimensions of space and time, the fact that there may even be other universes out there; somehow these anomalies have a deep significance; perhaps because of the way it tells us everything in the universe is somehow connected.  I suppose the Higgs Boson field is a kind of cake mixture that binds everything together - you, me, the earth we stand on, the very air we breathe and the stars and planets and myriads of galaxies spinning away out there.  I don't feel either that there has to be a conflict of interest between religion and science when it comes these kind of revelations, after all belief is personal to each individual and I feel the more we know about the world around us the closer it can bring us to a truth, whether its a bald scientific fact or a deeper connection with your God (whoever he or she may be).  Anyway I believe the more we know about the universe we all share, the more enriched our lives are; knowledge after all is wisdom.  Time for a joke I think: 'The Higgs Boson walks into a church.  The priest says we don't allow Higgs Boson's in here.  The Higgs Boson says, but without me how can you have mass?'

Tuesday 3 July 2012

Jazz cred


I heard over the weekend that Andy Hamilton, saxophonist and elder statesman of the Birmingham Jazz scene also died recently, and while any death is a sad occasion, Andy had lived a long and fruitful life; he was 94 and had a string of albums and tributes to his name, including an MBE.  He was a great guy and I actually played trumpet in his Blue Pearl Band for a while and had a few lessons off him too.  My first lessons were literally just blowing a high C.  "You gotta blow it sweet" he told me, "ain't no point learning nothing till you can play sweet."  So I blew and blew until he reckoned I could hit that pure note; listening to Miles Davies helped too - that guy always played 'sweet and pure'.  I bumped into Andy once in a lift at BBC Pebble Mill Birmingham where he was doing an interview, and Sarah was there too, to sit it on a recording of some music for a radio play of mine.  It had been a few years since I had last seen him and played with the Blue Pearl Band, so I was dead chuffed when he recognised me and asked me how my playing was going; especially as Sarah was with me and I wanted to impress her with my jazz credentials.  I told him that I hadn't played the trumpet for ages.  "Aw, you should, man, you should - you were good!" he rather graciously replied, especially as I really wasn't half as good as the rest of the brass section in his band.  We saw him again a couple of times, including at the Symphony Hall and he always had the time to speak to me when he saw me.  An individual who proved that 'cool' has nothing to do with how old you are - he was cool right up to the end; a guy you wanted to be seen with, even at 94.

Thursday 28 June 2012

Pilgrims


We went to Henri's funeral last week at Worcester Cathedral, a special place for all of us for all sorts of reasons.  It was while I was wandering around there some years ago that I came across the grave of a medieval pilgrim whose remains had been excavated a few years earlier.  His staff, boots and cockleshell hat were on display in the crypt; the shell signifying that he had walked all the way to Santiago de Compestela and perhaps even the Holy Land; an amazing journey, particularly at that time, and his skeleton bore the marks of it; deformed and twisted by arthritis and disease - he was obviously in great pain when he died.  But whom he was and how he came to be buried in such a significant place, no one knew.  And so I invented his story; a story of a battle for true faith, which I wrote up as a radio play and was directed by Peter Lesley Wild for BBC Radio 4.  The Cathedral staff and the Dean allowed me to research priceless documents and manuscripts in their amazing medieval library, and following the success of the radio play, the Dean commissioned me to write a son et lumiere production for the Cathedral, charting the history of the place from the founding to the present day, and some time later, Peter directed the stage version of The Worcester Pilgrim in the Cathedral itself with the Cathedral choir dressed as monks, singing plainchant.  Peter and his family are neighbours of Henri and her husband Erik who came along to see the play, and that's how we got to know them.   Henri's son sings in the choir now and so their family have strong links with the building too.  And so the service in that building meant something to all of us I think, and the choir added to the poignancy of the occasion, particularly when they sang Tavener's arrangement of Blake's 'Little Lamb Who Made Thee?' - it's so tender and moving, and was one of Henri's favourite pieces of music that she chose for her funeral before she passed away.  Afterwards we went to the wake, which was held at a nearby hotel on the banks of the River Severn.  Erik knew about my surgery, because I was working at his house when I was diagnosed.  I hadn't seen him since then, and so much had happened to both of us in a very short period of time, profound and serious and tragic.  I'm lucky - I'm still here and consequently the whole day for me had a strange significance; and not one for crying, I none the less found myself constantly fighting back tears, especially when Erik, recalling the past mentioned that Henri would often sing the Velvet Underground song, 'I'm sticking with you cause I'm made out of glue' to him.  Uncannily Sarah has been singing those very same words to me too for many years, and in fact sang it softly, holding my hand while I was lying in my hospital bed, veering between intense pain and blind panic.  Henri's three children are talented folk musicians and at the end of the day, together with a local band they played jigs and reels, reminding us all of how the family are united by their love of music and art.  And placed on an easel at one side of the band was a framed photograph of Henri laughing, leaning back in a deck chair with sun hat, shades and a pint of lager in her hand, just as I remembered her on the holiday we all shared that long weekend at Cropredy Festival.  Before we left, Erik told Sarah to make sure I got well and urged me to get out there and get on with the rest of my life.  I hope the rest of my life amounts to something; and it would be great if I could rustle up a few commissions and get my work out there again, and I suppose my writing has always been about searching for some kind of meaning, making sense of this crazy planet we all share, so I hope I can find some kind of truth along the way.  I guess we're all pilgrims really, bound together on a journey that will end the same for all of us, but searching for happiness, love and some kind of fulfilment along the way.  All in all a day that reminded me of the important things in my life, not so much my work, but my daughter, family and friends, and my beautiful, beautiful wife who through sickness and health is still sticking like glue.

Saturday 16 June 2012

Sad news


I've just received news that Henri, a friend of ours has passed away in St Richard's Hospice.  She was a lovely woman and will be sadly missed by all of us, particularly of course her family; made all the more poignant as she leaves behind three children who are still of school age.  The irony is that she had a similar cancer to me, but tragically it was more invasive and harder to treat.  When I was beginning to have symptoms I was doing some decorating at her house, and I told her I was having problems with getting a diagnosis as the consultant I had seen decided because I was relatively young, didn't smoke and had a pretty healthy lifestyle that I wasn't at any great risk.  It was clear that my symptoms matched those of Henri's, who was by then very ill, and she urged me to pay privately for an endoscopy; something she said she wished she had done herself.  She was really emphatic, but when I enquired as to how much it would cost, we simply didn't have the funds, so instead I rang the hospital and constantly hassled them for a cancellation; my persistence paid off, thank God, and consequently I was seen earlier than I would have been.  As soon as I had the endoscopy I was told that I had a tumour, then I had to ring again and hassle for a cancellation for a CT scan.  A couple of weeks after that I went under the knife, and thankfully my consultant (in spite of being so stubborn about seeing me) was an excellent surgeon, and the hospital care in the 'surgical high dependency ward' was very professional and compassionate.  It's so important to get an early diagnosis, and therefore it was alarming that I had to battle so hard to get one for myself.  And I guess I was spurred on by Henri, who in spite of her own struggle seemed somehow to have room in her heart to think of me too.  Just before I went into hospital I sent her some photographs of a holiday we shared when a load of us went camping at a rock festival: faces grinning at the camera - herself, her husband, her kids and the rest of us caught up in the moment, just chilling and enjoying the music, the sunshine and each other.  I hope it made her smile; we were all smiling that weekend, smiling and laughing... we are all so frail.

Wednesday 13 June 2012

Looking for work


No dishwashing or building work or anything too manual for a while, which is something of a welcome break, but although Sarah has been amazing through all of my treatment, I feel somewhat guilty relying on her for everything, and money (as always) is pretty tight, so I do feel pressure to find some kind of work.  With this in mind I recently accepted an invitation to attend a seminar about domestic violence and violence to women by men.  I was asked there as a playwright to reflect on the day and perhaps sometime in the near future, write a play about the subject; an area I've already visited with some of my work.  There were some very moving testimonies from abused women who were brave enough to stand up and share their disturbing stories with everyone, and there were two speakers who really blew me away: Karyn McCluskey, the co-director of the violence reduction unit, Strathclyde police, and from the USA, Tony Porter an activist in the social justice arena.  Karyn McCluskey conducted a sort of forensic examination of a young man who had committed a random killing, taking into account his family background; even events that had taken place before his birth, including details that made it depressingly evident that sooner or later something like this was bound to happen, stressing the need for early involvement; in fact it seems clear that 0-3 years are most crucial, after this time unfortunately most of the damage has been done.  She also talked about the sexual exploitation of young girls by gangs; something I have researched myself for my play, The Girl In The Box which has just been performed by East 15 final year drama students... distressing stuff, but sadly very real for the unfortunate victims.  Tony Porter's seminar was equally inspiring, talking about 'breaking out of the man box', and boy did it hit home!  Talking directly to the men in the room, it soon became apparent that long held opinions about women are (however liberated you might think you are) ingrained, and deep-seated attitudes that seem quite acceptable are actually quite offensive and are holding women back.  I wondered later what kind of play I might write to address these particular issues, then I remembered I'd already written it - Phil&Jill&Jill&Phil, which was produced some years ago by the Belgrade Theatre in Coventry.  It was a real crowd pleaser and there was talk of it transferring to the West End, but it never happened, and a few years later it was unmercilessly plagiarised by other writers.  I made the mistake of actually challenging one writer who hadn't really tried that hard to disguise his poor effort.  Of course I can't prove it, but there does seem to be operating (within some quarters) a sort of unofficial black-list paying me back, and on more than one occasion when meeting various people in the industry, the action I took was raised.  I guess what galls me most is the fact that the play was written out of a genuine concern for the subject matter, but once someone nicks your idea you know its just a promotional vehicle for them to make money.  I actually gave up writing for quite a while after that episode, and even now it hurts.  The sad truth is that there are some unscrupulous people in this industry.  But I love writing and can't seem to stop; I'm always writing something.  At the moment I'm writing more poetry; concentrating on my blog - A History Of The World In 100 Poems.  There's no money of course, but it's just good to be creative and keep your hand in I reckon.

Saturday 9 June 2012

I'm back!


Cancer is something that happens to other people... until it happens to you.  That's why I haven't posted a blog for such a long time: I spent 11 long days and nights in hospital enduring painful major surgery and have been home slowly recovering and pondering my future.  It seems I'm extremely lucky to be alive and I feel... well I feel different, I guess; I've had a brush with death and it's changed me somehow.  All those clichés about seeing things from a new perspective, suddenly appreciating the commonplace and ordinary and realising how precious a gift life really is, all that stuff about spending time watching a sunset or lying under a tree listening to the breeze moving the leaves, all those stories from people who have survived a trauma looking at their loved ones with grateful wonder for having been there for them... all that stuff - all that stuff is true.  It's been a humbling journey and now it's time to begin again; because that's sort of what it feels like really, a kind of second shot.  I have no idea what difference it will make in the long run... maybe after a while life just becomes, I don't know normal again and routine. We'll see...     

Tuesday 20 March 2012

Me And The Multiverse.

No shift today (thank God!), so after dropping Sarah (my wife) off at the school where she teaches I set off for a walk up the Malvern Hills (which lie just at the back of our house). I plugged my mobile into the radio app and listened on headphones to Jim al-Khalili's programme, 'The Life Scientific' as I headed upwards. He was talking to the physicist, Tejinder Virdee, who is working at CERN, searching for the illusive 'Higgs Boson' particle (or more likely field); it's a fascinating programme. Last week he interviewed the Astronomer Royal, Martin Rees who apart from black holes also pondered the existence of the 'multiverse'. I love this stuff! Quantum physics is a real passion of mine, and I've been writing about it in my first novel, which I finished last year. It's really difficult to get publishers to read unsolicited manuscripts, but as I read a 'book at bedtime' for Radio 4 a few years ago (as an actor), I used the contact to send them my book - they actually read it. Not only that, they seriously considered publishing it. They hung on to it for a while and made encouraging noises, but eventually declined as they felt they didn't have enough experience publishing 'young adult' fiction. It's odd how people categorise fiction now; I thought I had written an adult book with a main character who is a young girl; it's going to be a trilogy, so eventually we'll see her older, and I was kind of thinking along the lines of how Dickens wrote 'David Copperfield. But apparently it's a 'young adult crossover' book. My daughter thinks it's the best thing I've written... I have no idea; I just know how much I enjoyed writing and researching it. But I definitely feel inspired now to carry on with the project.

Monday 5 March 2012

Washing dishes and writing plays.

'"He writes with fury, passion and compassion about those whose voices are seldom heard" - Financial Times. "A powerful new voice in the theatre" - The Daily Telegraph. "The nail-biting intensity of the disturbing climax demonstrates the acute impact this haunting work deserves" - LA Times. Critics Pick - "Noise breaks your heart with dark simplicity" - Chicago Tribune... reviews for 'Noise' at Soho Theatre, Los Angeles and Chicago.

"Radio choice - Alex Jones's play about a deserter who claims to have seen Christ on the First World War battlefield builds to a compulsive drama about faith and killing from a soldier's point of view" - Daily Express. "Radio choice - The text brilliantly captures the mood of the period and the performances are first-rate" - The Guardian... reviews for 'A Miracle In No Man's Land' where I also played the lead character.

"A gently riveting story, its ecology worn lightly, beautifully acted" - Financial Times. "River's Up was a small masterpiece. Though imagining a world ending by flood, the storyline was grippingly realistic, movingly credible from what initially seemed no more than local flooding to the final catastrophe. Portrayed through the dramatic experiences of an ordinary couple, it could justifiably be described as a working man's Titanic" - Radio Times. "Few productions could be more timely and topical than this. Is art imitating nature, or nature art?" Yorkshire Post. "A powerful evening of theatre, keeping the audience on the edge of their seats throughout. A must see show" - The Oxford Times... reviews for 'River's Up' for Stephen Joseph Theatre, Swan Theatre, Oxfordshire Theatre Company, BBC Radio 4 and Teatro Cometa, Rome.

"Recommended - Romeo And Juliet crossed with Mad Max... a smart and wicked farce... this play's biggest achievement is making the audience roar with laughter as mankind literally devours itself limb by limb" - LA Times. "Recommended - Compelling and noteworthy" - Variety. "Funny, filthy, action-filled, romantic, tragic... Canned Peaches In Syrup is all of this and more" - LAStage.com... reviews for 'Canned Peaches In Syrup for Pasadena Playhouse, Los Angeles.

"Touching bravely on anorexia, peer pressure and teen suicide, I'm A Minger deserves to be seen by anyone who was ever a teenager" - Yorkshire Post. "The gradual ebbing of Katie’s self-confidence is beautifully written. The author’s tour-de-force performance, even including a brief ballet sequence complete with tutu, also spans a wide range of supporting characters effortlessly conjured up by changes of voice" - Birmingham Post... reviews for my one man play 'I'm A Minger!' Arts Theatre, London, 503 Theatre, Latitude Festival and a major national tour.

Not bad reviews, eh? And there's loads more like that... So with all that success behind me, what am I doing at the moment? Well actually, I'm working as a 'KP' - a Kitchen Porter in a busy hotel, washing dishes, scouring pots and pans, sweeping and scrubbing floors and emptying bins in a place with a hierarchy that is positively Medieval, and believe me I really am at the very bottom of the pile! It's exhausting, relentless, physical work and is mind-numbingly boring and I hate it! After an eight-hour shift with one half hour break I get home completely knackered and guess what I do then? I write of course!

Friday 2 March 2012