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?'

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.

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.

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.

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.

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...     

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.