Hugh Laurie Sings the Blues

I went into Nottingham today and treated myself. I didn't get an Indian Head Massage or a Pedicure. I bought a CD. An everyday occurrence, I know for many, but for me it was a treat. I can't remember the last time I went out and paid full price for a CD. It was so worth it though, as I'd been waiting a couple of months for Hugh Laurie's debut album, "Let Them Talk". I've just finished listening to it while tapping away on the computer, and WOW.

CD Cover

In the album notes, Hugh Laurie writes about why he's playing the Blues. "I was not born in Alabama in the 1890's. You may as well know this now. I've never eaten grits, cropped a share, or ridden a boxcar. No gypsy woman attended my birth and there's no hellhound on my trail, as far as I'm aware. Let this record show that I am a white, middle-class Englishman, openly trespassing on the music and myth of the American south.

One day a song came on the radio - I'm pretty sure it was 'I can't quit you baby' by Willie Dixon - and my whole life changed. A wormhole opened between the minor and major third, and I stepped through into Wonderland".

You'll have to read the rest of the album notes for yourself.

Blues and Jazz have been my favourite genre's for as long as I can remember, and in this album, Hugh Laurie brings some of the older Blues songs back to life, backed by a brilliant set of musicians. There are 15 songs, and I particularly like; St James Infirmary; Buddy Bolden's Blues; Swanee River; Tipitina and Six Cold Feet.

From the album notes

How did the Blues begin? So much has been written about this, and there doesn't seem to be a definitive answer. However, I do like the story of W.C.Handy. The following account is taken from a PBS Teaching Programme in America on the subject of the Blues.

"On a lonely night in 1903, W.C. Handy, the African American leader of a dance orchestra, got stuck waiting for a train in the hamlet of Tutwiler, Mississippi. With hours to kill and nowhere else to go, Handy fell asleep on a hard wooden bench at the empty depot. When he awoke, a ragged black man was sitting next to him, singing about "goin' where the Southern cross the Dog" and sliding a knife against the strings of a guitar. The musician repeated the line three times and answered with his instrument.

Intrigued, Handy asked what the line meant. It turned out that the tracks of the Yazoo & Mississippi Valley Railroad, which locals called the Yellow Dog, crossed the tracks of the Southern Railroad in the town of Moorehead, where the musician was headed, and he'd put it into a song.

It was, Handy later said, "the weirdest music I had ever heard."

That strange music was the blues, although few people knew it by that name. At the turn of the century, the blues was still slowly emerging from Texas, Louisiana, the Piedmont region, and the Mississippi Delta; its roots were in various forms of African American slave songs such as field hollers, work songs, spirituals, and country string ballads. Rural music that captured the suffering, anguish-and hopes-of 300 years of slavery and tenant farming, the blues was typically played by roaming solo musicians on acoustic guitar, piano, or harmonica at weekend parties, picnics, and juke joints. Their audience was primarily made up of agricultural laborers, who danced to the propulsive rhythms, moans, and slide guitar.

In 1912, Handy helped raise the public profile of the blues when he became one of the first people to transcribe and publish sheet music for a blues song—"Memphis Blues." Eight years later, listeners snapped up more than a million copies of "Crazy Blues" by Mamie Smith, the first black female to record a blues vocal. This unexpected success alerted record labels to the potential profit of "race records," and singers such as Ma Rainey and Bessie Smith began to introduce the blues to an even wider audience through their recordings.

As the African American community that created the blues began moving away from the South to escape its hardscrabble existence and Jim Crow laws, blues music evolved to reflect new circumstances. After thousands of African American farm workers migrated north to cities like Chicago and Detroit during both World Wars, many began to view traditional blues as an unwanted reminder of their humble days toiling in the fields; they wanted to hear music that reflected their new urban surroundings. In response, transplanted blues artists such as Muddy Waters, who had lived and worked on a Mississippi plantation before riding the rails to Chicago in 1943, swapped acoustic guitars for electric ones and filled out their sound with drums, harmonica, and standup bass. This gave rise to an electrified blues sound with a stirring beat that drove people onto the dance floor and pointed the way to rhythm and blues and rock and roll.

In the 1940s and early 1950s, the electrified blues reached its zenith on the radio, but began to falter as listeners turned to the fresh sounds of rock and roll and soul. In the early 1960s, however, as bands like The Rolling Stones began to perform covers of Muddy Waters and Howlin' Wolf, aspiring white blues musicians in the United Kingdom helped resuscitate the genre. In the process, they created gritty rock and roll that openly displayed its blues influences and promoted the work of their idols, who soon toured England to wide acclaim. Although happy to be in demand as performers again, many veteran blues musicians were bitterly disappointed by seeing musicians such as Led Zeppelin get rich by copping the sound of African American blues artists, many of whom were struggling to survive.

Today, 100 years after WC Handy first heard it, the blues no longer commands the attention it once did; to many young listeners, traditional blues—if not contemporary blues—may sound as strange as it did to Handy. But if they listen closely, they'll discover a rich, powerful history of people who helped build America and created one of the most influential genres of popular music".

From the album notes

In the album notes, Hugh Laurie lists his Blues guitar heroes, as well as piano players. He says, "I think I tended to favour the piano over the guitar because it stays in one place, which is what I like to do. Guitars appeal to the footloose, the restless. I like sitting a lot".

As for singers, Hugh's list only had two names on it: Ray Charles and Bessie Smith. And I couldn't agree more. Bessie Smith I think is my favourite female singer of all time, though her period of prominence was as far back as the 1920's and 1930's. She was born in 1894 and died as a result of a car accident in 1937. Her influence and popularity became immense. She once said that she never sang a Blues song twice in the same way. Her mood influenced her singing.

Ray Charles was from a later era; born in 1930, he died in 2004. He lost his sight completely at the age of 7, but this seemed to enhance his senses, and the range of his compositions and playing styles was truly stupendous. His life was immortalised in the film 'Ray'. Though Blues could not be said to be the dominant genre in his life, I have a number of his Blues albums which I play time and again. My adoration for the man can be seen by the fact that I use him as my Blogger name.

100 Greatest Blues Songs

Another list to tickle the fancy, and to get the debating juices flowing. In 2004, the website DigitalDreamDoor.com compiled a list of the 100 Greatest Blues Songs. Writing about the criteria they used, they said,

"These songs are vital for a basic knowledge of the history of the Blues genre, historical significance, defining an era, influence and to a lesser degree lasting popularity were taken into consideration".

1. Memphis Blues - W.C. Handy
  2. Crazy Blues - Mamie Smith
  3. Pine Top Boogie - Pine Top Smith
  4. Dust My Broom - Elmore James
  5. Boogie Chillun - John Lee Hooker
  6. Mannish Boy - Muddy Waters
  7. Stormy Monday - T-Bone Walker
  8. Hellhound On My Trail - Robert Johnson
  9. Spoonful - Willie Dixon
10. The Thrill Is Gone - B.B. King
11. Good Morning Little Schoolgirl - Sonny Boy Williamson I
12. Born Under A Bad Sign - Albert King
13. Forty Four Blues - Roosevelt Sykes
14. Smokestack Lightnin' - Howlin' Wolf
15. Statesboro Blues - Taj Mahal
16. Hoochie Coochie Man - Muddy Waters
17. Juke - Little Walter
18. The Little Red Rooster - Willie Dixon
19. Come In My Kitchen - Robert Johnson
20. I'm a King Bee - Slim Harpo
21. The Things That I Used To Do - Guitar Slim
22. Back Door Man - Willie Dixon
23. It's My Own Fault - B.B. King
24. I'm Tore Down - Freddie King
25. T-Bone Blues - T-Bone Walker
26. Sweet Home Chicago - Robert Johnson
27. Preaching The Blues - Son House
28. Nobody Knows You When You're Down & Out - Bessie Smith
29. I Can't Be Satisfied - Muddy Waters
30. Shake Your Moneymaker - Elmore James
31. Matchbox Blues - Blind Lemon Jefferson
32. Hideaway - Freddie King
33. How Long, How Long Blues - Leroy Carr & Scrapper Blackwell
34. Five Long Years - B.B. King
35. Red House - Jimi Hendrix
36. Cross Road Blues - Robert Johnson
37. All Your Love - Magic Sam
38. Give Me Back My Wig - Hound Dog Taylor
39. Reconsider Baby - Lowell Fulson
40. Worried Life Blues - Sleepy John Estes
41. If Trouble Was Money - Albert Collins
42. I Ain't Superstitious - Willie Dixon
43. Sweet Black Angel - Robert Nighthawk
44. I Know What You're Putting Down - Louis Jordan
45. Black Snake Moan - Blind Lemon Jefferson
46. Ball and Chain - Big Mama Thornton
47. Further On Up The Road - Bobby 'Blue' Bland
48. I Can't Quit You Baby - Otis Rush
49. Boom Boom - John Lee Hooker
50. Born In Chicago - Paul Butterfield Blues Band
51. Let The Good Times Roll - Louis Jordan
52. Pride and Joy - Stevie Ray Vaughan
53. Pony Blues - Charley Patton
54. The Sky Is Crying - Elmore James
55. Catfish Blues - Robert Petway
56. Highway 49 - Big Joe Williams
57. See That My Grave Is Kept Clean - Blind Lemon Jefferson
58. Blues Before Sunrise - Leroy Carr & Scrapper Blackwell
59. Baby Please Don't Go - Big Joe Williams
60. Bumble Bee - Memphis Minnie
61. I'm Ready - Muddy Waters
62. It Hurts Me Too - Elmore James
63. Stop Breakin' Down - Robert Johnson
64. Texas Flood - Stevie Ray Vaughan
65. I'm In The Mood - John Lee Hooker
66. Me and The Devil Blues - Robert Johnson
67. The Walkin' Blues - Taj Mahal
68. 'Taint Nobody's Bizness If I Do - Bessie Smith
69. It's Tight Like That - Tampa Red
70. Love In Vain - Robert Johnson
71. Evil - Willie Dixon
72. Baby Scratch My Back - Slim Harpo
73. Wang Dang Doodle - Koko Taylor
74. On The Road Again - Canned Heat
75. Rock Me Mama - Arthur 'Big Boy' Crudup
76. Three O'Clock Blues - B.B. King
77. Tomorrow Night - Lonnie Johnson
78. Boom Boom Out Go The Lights - Little Walter
79. The Same Thing - Willie Dixon
80. West Coast Blues - Blind Blake
81. How Many More Years - Howlin' Wolf
82. Cryin' Shame - Lightnin' Hopkins
83. Rollin & Tumblin - Elmore James
84. Everyday I Have The Blues - B.B. King
85. Messin Around - Memphis Slim
86. Blues After Hours - Pee Wee Crayton
87. Eyesight To The Blind - Sonny Boy Williamson II
88. CC Rider - Ma Rainey
89. I'm Tired - Savoy Brown
90. Graveyard Dream Blues - Ida Cox
91. Beaver Slide Rag - Peg Leg Howell
92. Key To The Highway - Big Bill Broonzy
93. Messin' With The Kid - Junior Wells
94. The Seventh Son - Willie Dixon
95. As The Years Go Passing By - Gary Moore
96. We're Gonna Make It - Little Milton
97. Drinking Wine Spo-Dee-O-Dee - Stick McGhee
98. Hard Luck Blues - Roy Brown
99. Black Magic Woman - Fleetwood Mac
100. Stone Crazy - Buddy Guy

 Mahalia Jackson said, "Anybody that sings the Blues is in a deep pit, yelling for help". If that's what it means to sing and love the Blues, then all I can say from within the pit is HELP! HELP!

An Afternoon of Pleasure in Nottingham

Nottingham Parade 8th May 2011

I'd enjoyed my usual Sunday afternoon walk through the Arboretum, and was sitting quietly by Main Marion Way waiting for the time of my next bus home. From the bottom of Maid Marion Way came the unmistakable sound of a marching band.

Into view it came, headed by policemen and women, who though were there to direct the traffic, seemed to march along themselves to the sound of the beat. The picture shows the beginning of the parade, and I did wonder why more people were not following it. The answer came a few moments later, as the ages of participants got younger and younger, and the size of them got smaller and smaller. The following crowds were obviously family and friends of the youngest members, and there were so many of them for a few minutes that it was difficult to see the parade.

I think that the parade was made up of adult and child members of the Boy's Brigade and the Girl's Brigade, as I thought I recognised what banners I could see. The Boy's Brigade was formed sometime around the 1850's, and is very much a uniformed Christian youth organisation . The Boy's Brigade in Northern Ireland is the largest male uniformed Christian youth organisation in the UK.

The twirling batons, drums, cymbals, trumpets, and an instrument I can't remember the name of, all contrived to make a familiar and pleasant sound. Near the back of the band were to be found the youngest members blowing on their trumpets, and I must say, surprising as it is for me to acknowledge, it was all very nice in the warm afternoon sunshine. An afternoon of pleasure in Nottingham to be sure.

When the band had past, and the sound was disappearing up the Derby Road, I began to think back over the years about my attitude to marching bands and uniformed organisations. I must have been insufferable in my conviction that I was right, and ignored history, culture and the views of others.

My first taste of marching bands was in 1971, my first full Summer in Belfast, and the Protestant 12th July parades. We made our way to the Lisburn Road, what turned out to be hours before the parade came along so that we could get a good view from the front of the pavement.

It was certainly a spectacular event that went on for hours; band after band, seemingly playing the same tune, and the leader of each band vying with each other to see who could throw the baton the highest and catch it on the way down. Some of the marchers had obviously imbibed a bit too much alcohol before the march began, and a little too much more during the march. If I was honest, twenty minutes in to the parade and I was bored stiff. There's only so many bands you can see in one afternoon, and in the next 18 years, I never saw another 12th July parade. I did catch some of the mini-12th July parades in East Belfast, but they were much smaller, and I could escape easily. I was never at ease with the whole notion of the parades really when we were to "Remember 1690". All I wanted to do was forget being shackled by history, and move on, but what did I know, as I was constantly reminded, I was from "across the water". And here I was, enjoying a parade in Nottingham. Who'd have thought it?

Boy's Brigade Logo

In the 1970's and 1980's I was firstly connected with, and later became the minister of an evangelical Church in Belfast. Some of the Elders, and a number of the congregation had been members of the Boy's Brigade in their youth.

They supported the idea of having something similar in our Church. I was adamant that I would have no uniformed organisation, with all of its military connotations in my Church. How insufferable is that? As if a healthy, wholesome and disciplined programme was going to turn these children and young people into rampant aggressors. But that's how I felt at the time. Now I was gazing upon a uniformed marching band with almost dewy eyes. Who'd have thought it?

So thank you to members of the Boy's Brigade and Girl's Brigade for bringing an afternoon of pleasure to Nottingham.

My Village, My Home, My Life - part five

Yes, I know. I know. I said that the last one would be the last one, but I've changed my mind. Self-indulgent it may me, but I'm enjoying myself, and a few comments have encouraged me to keep it going.

Hill Street, Penycae

I went back to Penycae last Sunday to have a look around, and refresh my memory. I travelled around the lanes outside of the village to remember the walks taken in my youth. I took this photograph looking down Hill Street, with Lampit Street on the left. The house in the middle is where I lived for the first five years of my life. I'd always believed that the original cottages were pulled down and another house built on the site. On looking at the house a lot closer, it seems to be of an age from the late 1940's, and I now think that the original two semi-detached cottages have been knocked into one dwelling.

Continuing past the house on Hill Street, you pass over the Pentre bridge, with the river flowing beneath it. Just past the bridge, higher up the bank, (you can see a white house to the right of mine) lived the first girl I was ever keen on. I was only about 5 or 6 remember, and never told anyone about it. To be honest, I'm as useless today as I was then about mentioning feelings to females. Our respective families were quite close, and I remember walking up the steep path to their house from off the road. There were fruit hedges on either side of the pathway lined with the biggest, juiciest gooseberries you could ever imagine seeing. We ate loads of them, and I still love gooseberries to this day.

Hill Street Shop

The shop on the left was at the top of Hill Street, opposite the War Memorial. The picture was taken around 1973. The then owners had bought it the year before, and they say that the deeds to the building were 150 years old then.

There are two things that I remember about that shop when I was growing up. One was the range of sweets you could buy, that you could get from nowhere else locally. The weekly treat while very young was worth waiting for. The second thing that I remember is being absolutely terrified of the daughter of the shop owners. I have no idea why - time has been kind and erased this from my memory. It must have been of sufficient scale though, as my sister has occasionally referred to it. Terrified I may have been, but the need for sweets was all consuming in an age of general austerity, and purchases were made with the speed of a Usain Bolt.

Two doors up from the shop nearer Chapel Street stood the Cross Keys pub (I'll return to this later). Built at the back of the pub was the Post Office and the men's Barber Shop.

The Barber's shop was a small room where I used to have my hair cut on a Saturday morning every 4 - 6 weeks. Prior to going to secondary school, the style (don't imagine for one moment that there was any style about it) was fairly short on top with a parting down the left side. A pudding bowl, suitable to the size of your head was placed on it, and all the hair cut off that was not hidden by the bowl.

On going to secondary school, I rebelled. I had enough problems in school to cope with without the shame of a pudding bowl haircut. I needed a more sophisticated look. Unfortunately, the Barber had two styles available. One with the pudding bowl and one without. I think that the hair styles in the three periods of my life - junior school, secondary school, and everything after - could be summed up by one word, crap.




Pub Map of Penycae

The village during its history had thirteen pubs, but only two of them remain in business today.

1. Wheelwrights Arms
2. Bricklayers Arms
3. The New Inn
4. Royal Oak
5. The Anchor
6. The Cross Keys
7. The Bird in Hand
8. The Queens
9. The Black Horse (still operating)
10. The Cross Foxes (still operating)
11. The Eagles
12. The Red Lion



The Anchor Pub

13. Name Unknown

The Anchor Pub was opposite our house in Hill Street. It was the only pub in the area that had a thatched roof. A pathway down the side of it led to the Recreation Ground. It is said that a famous Welsh boxer (though I can't seem to find his name) used to train in the stables at the back of the pub - a bit like Rocky.

Unfortunately, on the 26th June 1953 a stray spark set the thatch roof on fire, destroying the pub. We moved from Hill Street in 1953 to live on the farm. I don't know if the move was before the fire, or after it. The Pentre area of Penycae was an interesting place to live.

Wales has always liked its beer. It may seem as if Penycae had a lot of pubs, but this was nothing compared to Blackwood (in South Wales area now known as Gwent), which boasted in 1842 to have one pub for every 5 inhabitants.

It is said that Wales has been brewing beer for 4000 years, and enjoying every minute of it. An 1850 report on public health in north east Wales stated, "Drunkenness I found complained of, by all parties, as the disgrace of Wrexham". The historian Russell Davies said in 2005, "The real opiate of the Welsh was alcohol. Alcohol was a thirst quencher, a reliever of physical pain and psychological strain, a symbol of human interdependence, a morale booster, a sleeping draft and a medicine. The hopelessness of destitution demanded a short-cut to oblivion".

We often hear today about marketing policies (offers on drink by supermarkets and pubs), youth drinking and binge drinking as if they are all new, and life was so different in the past. Look at some examples.

Marketing - in 1836, One Merthyr Tydfil publican was found to be offering three drinks for the price of one as an early morning special offer.

Youth drinking - in 1891, the popular novelist, Daniel Owen complained that pubs "were now filled with empty-headed youths, not old enough to shave, drinking like animals and going home in a worse state than any animal".

Binge drinking - in the 1830's, members of the Ebbw Vale Temperance Society were allowed two pints of beer a day, similar to the current recommended maximum for men of 3-4 units per day. However, problems arose when some adherents decided to save up their weekly beer allowance in order to knock back 14 pints at the weekend. The Society soon moved to the view of total abstinence.

Wales' love of rugby is well known, as is the fact that it went hand in hand with drink. The period from 1964 to 1979, when Wales won seven Triple Crowns and England failed to record a single victory in Cardiff, led according to John Davies to "a redefinition of the characteristics of the Welsh" from "puritan chapel-goers" to "muscular boozers who were doubtful whether there was any life beyond the dead-ball line".

Through pressure from the religious communities and the temperance movement, the Welsh Sunday Closing Act was passed in 1881 which meant that no pubs could open on a Sunday in Wales. This was the case until 1961 when every local district in Wales could separately vote whether to open pubs on Sundays in their District. Wales gradually became 'wet' on Sundays from 1961 to 1996, when the local government district of Dwyfor became the last district to lift the ban.

When pubs were closed on Sundays in Wales, people came up with all manner of creative ways to get a drink. In Penycae, buses came to the village on a Sunday to take people to Oswestry for a drink - this was a small town just across the border in England. This was one of the benefits of living near the border with England.

There's a wonderful story of ingenuity in Penycae concerning the Cross Keys pub. There was a house next door attached to the pub, and the house owner and pub owner agreed to knock a hole in the wall between the pub and the living room in the house. Drinkers would go to the house and be served drink through the hole in the wall, so technically people were not drinking in the pub on a Sunday. I loved the description given to me that the pub was closed, but the house had lots of friends.

Throughout Wales there were examples of man's cunning spirit. In the 1890's, Cardiff's Hotel de Mari arranged for gatherings of up to 2000 men on Sunday mornings to meet at a disused clay pit, where barrels of drink were provided free of charge in return for a 'voluntary' fee. Drinkers also made use of a clause in the legislation allowing the provision of drinks to genuine travellers, by walking to the next parish for a pint. Finally, one very enterprising brewery sought to take advantage of the ban by selling 'Sunday sustainers': two pint flagons of beer that could be bought on Saturday to drink on the Sunday.

I'm strangely proud that my village had its fair share of cunning plans to get a drink on a Sunday. We've spent a lot of time on drink here, which was important to my village, and I hope that the wider context has been of interest. Let me finish by pretending that we're in a pub quiz, and ask two questions.

1. What is the highest pub in the United Kingdom? - it is the Tan Hill Inn, Yorkshire at 1,732 feet above sea level.
2. What is the remotest pub on the British mainland? - it is The Old Forge in the village of Inverie, Lochaber, Scotland.There is no road access and it may only be reached by an 18 mile walk over the mountains, or a seven mile sea crossing. See http://www.theoldforge.co.uk/

Until next time, when I may subject you to stories of my first job on leaving school.

Nottingham European Arts and Theatre Festival 2011

I went to the New Art Exchange in Hyson Green, Nottingham today, but with my usual immaculate timing I was between exhibitions. Why on earth don't I check these things beforehand? However, it gave me the opportunity to have a cup of coffee, blueberry muffin and a look through the brochure for the forthcoming two-week Nottingham European Arts and Theatre Festival called Neat 11. It looks to be an interesting and exciting (I do use those words a lot don't I? - must look at the thesaurus next time) mix of productions. I thought that I would highlight here a few events that are of interest (there I go again) to me. If anybody from the Festival is reading this, the extra free publicity has got to be worth a 20% discount on ticket prices don't you think?

Giles Croft, Artistic Director, Nottingham Playhouse and Neat 11 says, "In programming this first neat festival we wanted to achieve a number of things. Firstly to invite first class work to the City of Nottingham; secondly to present the best that the City has to offer; and finally to make it a truly City-wide experience. Working with our cultural partners in Nottingham and the European Theatre Convention (ETC) we have been able to deliver on all counts. This vigorous, intriguing and uplifting programme demonstrates the variety of approaches to the making of theatre locally and internationally, and will ensure plentiful surprises, delights and challenges".

Do check out http://www.neatfestival.co.uk/ for venues, dates and ticket prices.

THE LEAGUE OF YOUTH

by Henrik Ibsen in a version by Andy Barrett

'Vote for change'

"Sick of the two established parties and their vested interests, one man promises a radical new agenda: to champion the people and remake politics. Does the League of Youth herald a fair future for all, or the same old small-town corruption? Is Stensgaard a hero in the making - or a man on the make? Switching allegiances at the drop of a rosette, and caught up in a string of romantic affairs, Stensgaard rapidly comes unstuck.

This brand new version of Ibsen's political farce, with its sparkling wit and cynical humour, finds fresh satire in an uncanny mirror of present-day Britain, where promises lead to compromise in the rush to snatch a share of the power".

"Leonore, the heroine of Beethoven's only opera, risks her life disguising herself as a prison guard to rescue Florestan, her wrongly imprisoned husband.

Good triumphs over evil and love conquers all as Beethoven's miraculous music delves deep into the passion and power of human emotion".

'You will not wipe away the crimes from their brow, but equally you will not extinguish the spark of God'.

"Based on Dostoyevsky's novel, The House of the Dead, Janacek's opera draws the visceral stories of captives in a Siberian prison with energy and vivid musical imagery. The harsh lyricism and sheer humanity of the music create a genuinely life-affirming experience celebrating the strength of the human spirit".

"The story of a death postponed by life.

Gregory had 57 letters to write. He'd started, full of optimism, curiously enough, at 9.00am and now, 8 hours later, he was half way through letter 24. He glanced at his watch and then at the noose hanging over his head.

Had he known how long suicide letters take, he thought, he wouldn't have cancelled the milk for the morning".

THE CROSSING

by Esther O'Toole

"Leave it all behind: friends, family, lovers.

Drop all your hopes and gamble everything for the chance of a brighter future.

Have you the money, the strength, the willpower to make the final crossing?

The Crossing is a riveting story of three Ghanaian men who journey thousands of miles across Africa in search of the new EUtopia.

Tangle is one of the UK's most exciting new theatre companies, celebrating and championing the work of theatre people from across Africa and beyond".

"In 1535, the men of the silent Carthusian Order of a small Nottinghamshire monastery stood up to Henry V111's demands in his battle to reform the alliance between church and state. This is the story of that incredible confrontation - the beginning of a wave of violence that would crash through England for decades.

Hanby and Barrett have become known across the region for producing spectacular site-specific work with community actors. The Cries of Silent Men, commissioned by Broxtowe Borough Council, was first performed at Beauvale Priory in 2010.

This outdoor performance involves moving from place to place. Seating is not provided, and no dogs are allowed apart from guide dogs".

FAUST

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

"The owner of an old, forgotten studio stages the history of Faust before the very eyes of the audience. He shows Faust's covenant with the Devil, his tragic love for Margaret, his anguished search for truth, his illuminations, and his death.

It is a theatre of old people, madness, death and the fight between Carnival and Lent. The owner of the Studio, the Stage Director, will make his characters run from heaven, through the world, to hell".





Do let me know if you manage to get to any of the Festival productions, and what you thought of them.

The Rock Cemetery

Officially known as Church Cemetery, but because of its location and layout, it is more commonly referred to as the Rock Cemetery. It can be found off the Mansfield Road, in the Sherwood area of Nottingham. Much has been written, and many photographs taken of this unique place. I'm adding to this list simply to encourage those that I know, who have little knowledge of Nottingham, to one day come and visit, and see for themselves. The photographs are mine, taken on my mobile phone, as I didn't want to nick any of the more professional looking ones.

The cemetery space came about as the result of the 1845 Nottingham Enclosure Act, where four acres were designated for the Church (Rock) Cemetery use - a further nine acres were added in 1851. I'm always looking for links, however tenuous, and I noticed that the cemetery was designed by Edwin Patchitt, a local solicitor and clerk to the Cemetery Company, and was opened in 1856. Edwin was born in Nottingham in 1808, and died in Hastings, East Sussex in 1888. Hastings was where I lived before moving to Nottingham last year. (I did tell you that the link was tenuous). There is a rather grand memorial to Edwin in the Rock Cemetery, but it's not clear if that is where he is actually buried. Perhaps someone knows the answer to that.

The Cemetery is unlike most cemeteries, and is wonderful because of this. The layout is determined by the sandstone rocks and old sand pits on which the Cemetery was created. It comprises four main areas; a terrace to the south with a straight promenade to the site of the Chapel; a section in the centre and north-west which is terraced and has retaining walls; the catacomb range in St Anne's Valley in the east, and the north-west corner which uses natural caves, cliffs and outcrops. The rocks are of course where it gets its name from. The site also has many trees planted throughout. My purpose here is not to give detailed descriptions of what you will find on the site, as others have done this much more professionally. I hope that the following photographs will give you a flavour of the Rock Cemetery, and encourage you to visit for the first time, or if you've seen it before, to visit it again.

Hospitals and Family Care

This year, I've had more to do with hospitals than I have ever done previously. This is not because of any needs that I personally have, but rather the needs of my family. In visiting two hospitals in particular, I was struck by the issues of design and care.

There is often a battle here between idealism and reality. It can be said that idealism costs money, and reality is the cheaper option. This need not always be the case though, as creative thinking and planning can have a major impact on good design.

The question to ask is "what is a hospital's primary purpose?". Surely the answer is "to make patients' better in as short a time as possible". Design and care should both focus on this primary purpose. Are they both helpful towards this end, or do they present barriers to it being achieved?

Much has been written over the years about hospital design, but how many have been listening? Modern hospital buildings are designed to minimise the effort of medical staff and the possibility of contamination, while maximising the efficiency of the whole system. However, it has been said that many hospitals, even those considered to be 'modern', are the product of continual and often badly managed growth over decades or even centuries, with new sections added on as needs and finances dictate. One such critic is the Dutch architectural historian Cor Wagenaar who called many hospitals;

"... built catastrophes, anonymous institutional complexes run by vast bureaucracies, and totally unfit for the purpose they have been designed for ... They are hardly ever functional, and instead of making patients feel at home, they produce stress and anxiety".

Research by the British Medical Association is showing that good hospital design can reduce patient's recovery time. Exposure to daylight is effective in reducing depression. Single sex accommodation help ensure that everyone is treated in privacy with the dignity they deserve. Exposure to nature and hospital gardens is also important - looking out of windows improves patient's mood, reduces blood pressure and stress level. Eliminating long corridors can reduce nurses' fatigue and stress. Newer hospitals are looking at moving away from a ward-based system to accommodation in single rooms. Whether this will ever become the norm for 'non-payers' is anyones guess, because of the cost of the design.

I have to admit to finding it funny, that these 'new' ideas have in fact been around in various forms for a very long time. Examples are: William Penn in late 17th Century Philadelphia, founded the first Quaker hospital with revolutionary attitudes to care. Florence Nightingale in the Crimean War of the 1850's and for years afterwards changed the face of care. Equally revolutionary was the Royal Naval Hospital, Plymouth in the late 18th Century. We are learning, but I think that we need to learn a bit quicker.

It might be good to dream of a near perfect world, but we inhabit this current one. It may have it's imperfections, but these can be overcome somewhat, by the quality of care given to patients. So how have my family got on?

Addenbrooke's Hospital

In January of this year, my Son contracted the rare neurological condition, Miller Fisher Syndrome which left him blind and unable to walk for a few days. He has spoken of this on his own Blog at http://www.canningcircus.blogspot.com/ He has only just started to return to work part time.

I was glad that he lives in Cambridge, and so found himself at the world renowned Addenbrooke's Hospital, with the best doctor's available to diagnose, and treat his condition.

Because of this expertise, the diagnosis was fairly quick, and treatment could begin early. He had five days of intravenous drug treatment, which was expensive, but given without hesitation. This may not have been the case at another hospital trust, who may have preferred to look for the body self-healing, even if that took over a year. Thankfully he was in the right place to get the best care, and from a non-patient perspective, I believe that he had the best care.

Good Hope Hospital

My Sister was diagnosed with lung cancer in March of this year. After three biopsy's - the first two were inconclusive as to which type of cell cancer it was - a decision was taken as to what treatment she should have.

By this time she'd already seen a number of people within the medical profession, and now it was time for the first meeting with the Oncologist. Her hospital was to be the Good Hope Hospital in Sutton Coldfield. I went with her to that appointment. The Oncologist was warm and friendly; took time to explain everything in detail, and made sure that we understood everything before we left. This was also true of the cancer nurse we saw before leaving the hospital.

My Sister had her first Chemotherapy session last week, with at least three, and possibly five more to come. The hospital room where this took place was quite large, with comfortable chairs around all the walls. Though having to be there for nine hours of treatment, and with the room being exceptionally busy and noisy (due in part to them having the Royal Wedding on the TV), the nursing staff couldn't have been more helpful and friendly. Though some of them were on 10 hour shifts, I've no idea when any of them took a break, and their enthusiasm and helpfullness never wavered. They carefully and sympathetically took time to explain to by Sister all about the medication that she needed to be taking, when and why. These are my observations you understand, not hers.

An article on hospital care admitted, "One criticism often voiced is the 'industrialised' nature of care, with constantly shifting treatment staff, which dehumanises the patient and prevents more effective care as doctors and nurses rarely are intimately familiar with the patient. The high working pressures often put on staff exacerbate rushed and impersonal treatment".

We want your views

In an organisation as large and complex as the NHS, it's inevitable that there will be a range of views on the type of care people receive. I have read what feels like hundreds of comments from patients and families of their experiences of Addenbrooke's and Good Hope Hospital. Satisfaction rates can vary between departments, and at times within the same department. Often this can be 'personality based', as it depends on which doctor or nurse you see. Any business has a problem if customer satisfaction is based on personality rather than policy.

Patient comments can be found on every hospital through the NHS Choices User Ratings. One of a number of questions available is, "Would you recommend this hospital to a friend?". At Addenbrooke's Hospital, the overall rating was 76% for yes. At Good Hope Hospital the overall rating was 50%. The first rating I think is quite acceptable, while the second one could do with improving. There may be many reasons why 24% of comments at Addenbrooke's said no, and why 50% at Good Hope said no. Everything may not always be down to the hospital. Sometimes patients and families can have expectations that cannot be fulfilled, but are understandable when you are very concerned about yourself or your loved one.

My Son and Sister can speak for themselves, but so far, in my view, I cannot complain about the care and treatment that they have received. I believe that a lot of this satisfaction is down to two very simple words. Communication and explanation. My family has gone through, and is still going through worrying times. The unknown brings fear and worry. Your mind races in all directions, and you cannot be at peace. To know that someone is talking to you, and talking you through your illness is a great relief, and surely that must have some impact on your ability to recover.

Some may feel that the NHS has failed them, but for me, as someone outside, looking in on the care of family, the NHS deserves praise. By NHS here, I of course do not refer to a monolithic structure, but to the men and women who work on a one-to-one basis with people in need.

Poets and Poetry

"Poets are the hierophants of an unapprehended inspiration; the mirrors of the gigantic shadows which futurity casts upon the present; the words which express what they understand not; the trumpets which sing to battle, and feel not what they inspire; the influence which is moved not, but moves. Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world".

Percy Bysshe Shelley (A Defence of Poetry)

I'm no expert on poetry; I just know what I like, and know what does nothing for me. I go from the sublime to the ridiculous; from the weighty, deadly serious to the comical. Take for instance the 19th Century Chartist Thomas Cooper's epic poem "Purgatory of Suicides" with over 900, nine line stanzas. Then you have Spike Milligan's wonderful nonsense poem, "On the Ning, Nong, Nang".

If there's one thing guaranteed to raise the hackles of many, it's lists. But lists can get us thinking; get us talking; get us arguing. Top 10 sales are a question of fact, but top 10 poems can be a matter of opinion. Here's where the debate starts. I've been looking through a number of dedicated poetry sites, where they display what in their opinion are the top 500 poems. That's too many to look at, so I concentrated on the top 5 in each list. There were three poems always in the top 5.

1. Phenomenal Woman ..................................... Maya Angelou
2. If You Forget Me ......................................... Pablo Neruda
3. Where The Sidewalk Ends ........................... Shel Silverstein

I confess to not knowing any of them, but that say's more about me, rather than about the poems. I have now corrected my deficient knowledge, and loved Phenomenal Woman, and was determined to know more about Maya Angelou. The brief biography that follows is courtesy of Poets.org.

Maya Angelou

"Maya Angelou was born Marguerite Johnson in St. Louis, Missouri, on April 4, 1928. She grew up in St. Louis and Stamps, Arkansas. She is an author, poet, historian, songwriter, playwright, dancer, stage and screen producer, director, performer, singer, and civil rights activist. She is best known for her autobiographical books: All God's Children Need Traveling Shoes (1986), The Heart of a Woman (1981), Singin' and Swingin' and Gettin' Merry Like Christmas (1976), Gather Together in My Name (1974), and I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings (1969), which was nominated for the National Book Award. Among her volumes of poetry are A Brave and Startling Truth (Random House, 1995), The Complete Collected Poems of Maya Angelou (1994), Wouldn't Take Nothing for My Journey Now (1993), Now Sheba Sings the Song (1987), I Shall Not Be Moved (1990), Shaker, Why Don't You Sing? (1983), Oh Pray My Wings Are Gonna Fit Me Well (1975), and Just Give Me a Cool Drink of Water 'fore I Die (1971), which was nominated for the Pulitzer prize.

In 1959, at the request of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Maya Angelou became the northern coordinator for the Southern Christian Leadership Conference. From 1961 to 1962 she was associate editor of The Arab Observer in Cairo, Egypt, the only English-language news weekly in the Middle East, and from 1964 to 1966 she was feature editor of the African Review in Accra, Ghana. She returned to the U.S. in 1974 and was appointed by Gerald Ford to the Bicentennial Commission and later by Jimmy Carter to the Commission for International Woman of the Year. She accepted a lifetime appointment in 1981 as Reynolds Professor of American Studies at Wake Forest University in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. In 1993, Angelou wrote and delivered a poem, "On the Pulse of the Morning," at the inauguration for President Bill Clinton at his request.

The first black woman director in Hollywood, Angelou has written, produced, directed, and starred in productions for stage, film, and television. In 1971, she wrote the original screenplay and musical score for the film Georgia, Georgia, and was both author and executive producer of a five-part television miniseries "Three Way Choice." She has also written and produced several prize-winning documentaries, including "Afro-Americans in the Arts," a PBS special for which she received the Golden Eagle Award. Maya Angelou was twice nominated for a Tony award for acting: once for her Broadway debut in Look Away (1973), and again for her performance in Roots (1977)".
A remarkable woman, with a remarkable output. This is her poem that tops many lists.

Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Well there you are - top of the lists. Let the debate commence. Is this just opinion, or is there more science to it? Let me throw my hat in the ring, and yes, I know it's Dylan Thomas again, but hey, it's only opinion isn't it?

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.