I did mean to complete a post for April but that month somehow got away from me and it's now May, so that won't happen now will it!
I've found in recent months that my endeavours outside of creative work (mainly around village life) has been taking up a lot of my time with nothing to really show for it. This was causing me some stress and uncertainty in regard to the right direction to take. In the end I took certain decisions and stepped away from one thing, decided not to continue with another and both are (I think) the right decisions for me. In creative news, I finally managed to get the digital version of my latest work ('Messages to No One') online as well as in print. Should you wish to have a look at the digital version, you can find it here: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Messages-No-One-Poetry-2022-ebook/dp/B0C4FXY3NN/ref=sr_1_3?crid=23LK406EKD35U&keywords=alan+mitchell&qid=1683995944&s=digital-text&sprefix=alan+mitchell%2Cdigital-text%2C228&sr=1-3 Or you can go to my Kindle Store page: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Alan-Mitchell/e/B01DL1FAQI/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1 and have a look through everything that is on offer there, which just by chance includes the original version of 'The UnderTow SongBook'. This is a book of lyrics for our many songs since 2006, but not all of them. It doesn't have guitar tabs or accompanying music, and I'm not sure how we'd do this should we want to (there's not exactly a clamour for this at the moment), but I do have plans for the SongBook. This original version will be replaced soon as I'm updating it and separating it into two different versions. Why? Well, Keith and I are nearing 250 songs now (including songs written especially for our forthcoming EP 'Passing Moods' and double Prog CD 'discoveryONE' which has 24 on its own!). Thus, my thought is to split the SongBook into two specific era's' 2006 (when we started) to 2013 (when we went into a hiatus as I was unwell). The second volume will see 2016 to the present and will grow and be revised as our output continues to increase. My new collection of poetry is well under way now. The working title is 'In Quiet Tones' and while I've not set this in stone - and do not have a completed cover yet (a bit worrying as I'm normally pretty settled on one by this time of the year); it is unlikely to change as I am pretty comfortable with the sound of the collection title right now. So, I have more work to do on 'discoveryONE' this month and really need to get back to working on 'Past Horrors'; a book of short stories I've had 'in the works' for several years but which I've not as yet completed. Odd really as I've written a whole new story for it and it's not seen the light of day yet! I'll try an post something else soon but in the meantime, keep reading and stay well all! Alan
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and I'm fairly busy as always.
As 'Mitchell&Melhuish', Keith and I released our 3rd CD earlier this year. Called 'London Diary - Pieces of Eight 1,' it is in physical CD and Digital form, and is available worldwide on many streaming platforms. This release is our best yet; 8 tracks telling a (fictionalised) story of travels across the amazing city that is London. Then on 1st March 2023 my latest book of poetry was published in paperback format (it'll be on my Amazon Kindle Store in due course). This is 'Messages to No One', my 2022 collection of poems numbering 106 in total. It's a varied tome, with The Queen's Jubilee and subsequent sad passing, the awful Ukraine invasion, our rescue dog Ollie's diagnosis of terminal cancer and a lot more besides. It's in a slightly different format with fewer photos on it than some collections before, and I like the 'clean' format this presents. Plus, it has to be said, it's cheaper to print fewer colour pages when you have close to 150 pages on average in a book! Of course, I've already started my collection of 2023 The working title is 'In Quiet Tones' and I'm already close to 30 poems. That's not bad going, as long as they are of good quality. It's always a concern for me as one year ends and I'm presented with the year ahead being completely unknown, unknowable and a blank screen - will I have anything to say? Can I continue to see and hear poems around me that require capturing and pinning between the pages of a book? Or will I run dry, sit there; frustrated with nothing to say? Having no real audience is one thing; having nothing to tell them another. I'm going to also spend time on a book of short stories that I've been tinkering with for years - the elusive 'Past Horrors'. Often spoken about, regularly advertised, but not (as yet) finished. My first collection of short stories ('Dances of Friendship') was published several years ago and it was good to have these 'tween suitable stories make it into print. But I've been allowing other pursuits to occupy me and while they are all worthwhile and highly enjoyable; I need to finish this particular book in order to move on to other works I have in the making ... one of them a story that has risen from the two courses I've enjoyed at the Grimsby Institute - a Scriptwriting Course and then a Creative Writing Course. These courses have made me even consider an entry into open literary competitions; something I've never contemplated before. For what is there to lose? You either win or you don't. Entering such a situation willingly is not something I'd have thought I'd do, but I'm minded to 'give it a go' (as Mrs P used to say at Laura's Primary School!). But that's for another day, now I need to turn my mind to the final story in the 'Past Horrors' collection and think on what needs to be done to it to bring it to a state where it can make it into print. Now, where did I save the latest iteration to... ? Stay safe and keep reading all. Alan and I'm partway through the (yearly) process of editing, proofreading and formatting the 100 or so poems I'd written over the previous year into a completed and readable book!
This is always a labour of love, something I enjoy doing and with each new collection I really think I'm evolving and progressing as an artist and publisher. Nothing is ever perfect of course and I'd never ever try to suggest that any of my work comes even close to perfection; but I'm happier with each new book I produce and that in itself is rewarding. Having relocated to Lincolnshire, it was always my intent to find some sort of evening or adult courses to undertake and due to a variety of factor; I've ended up ding a 'Scriptwriting' course at The Grimsby Institute! I've never considered doing any sort of script creation but as it was available and I could get onto it; I thought I'd give it. go! Well, what a revelation! Keith and I ('Mitchell&Mellhuish' and 'UnderTow' music) are working on a double CD Prog album and I realised quickly that the narration I've been writing for it is in essence a script! More than that, this course has provided me with new tools and approaches to my creative work and I'm now looking at different aspects of my work with a new perspective. I've even written my first 'proper' script! Called 'Our Bench' I submitted it to the Institute for inclusion in a pool of scripts that could be filmed by the Film & TV Students. It didn't get picked but I didn't expect it to be - it's a melancholic and gentle 2 minute piece on a bench between 2 people (that was the brief) which is quite sweet - certainly not 'cutting edge'. However, they have asked to put it into the Institute's 'Script Bank', which is nice. Anyway, it's the last session next week but I'm hoping to get onto another course starting at the end of January, this time regarding Creative Writing itself. I'm enjoying a different perspective in my writing and looking forward to turning an idea I've had about a certain place in Louth into a full story and maybe even a script for TV! Opportunities come in all forms, at various times of your life and it's important to take advantage of them when able. So, back to sorting out the latest collection whilst, at the same time, starting on the new collection for 2023 (working title 'In Quiet Tones'). Wish me luck, and keep on reading! Alan I'm not as good at updating this (or my other) site as I should be. I have a reason, in fact I have quite a few - I'm so busy living life, helping my daughter to achieve what she can in a new school, working on one poetry collection, one short stories collection and one novel, finalising the touches to be able to release our 3rd studio album (London Diary - Pieces of Eight #1), working on sourcing ISRC numbers for all UnderTow (and now Mitchell & Melhuish) releases, plus writing new material for our Prog opus; 'discoveryONE' which we are hoping to release before Christmas (2022).
I should try to be a little more robust in my approach to the Blog as it's not been updated for the majority of the year. It's not that I don't want to keep in touch with any audience I manage to attract to the page; it's just that I can't seem to manage everything I want too and one of the things I seem to 'drop' is updating the website as often as I should. But one thing that has happened already this month has made me (and the world) take pause and two more have made me think about things a little more and put my fingers on the keys to write this new entry. The first of the three is that my wife and I were invited to Hatfield Peveral in Essex for the ceremony of the BBC Essex 'Make a Difference' awards. I'd been fortunate to have been asked if I'd be a first round Judge to review all the 139 nominations across the 8 categories and create a shortlist to send on to the next (and final) round. The resultant winners will go through to be considered for the wider National Awards. I was more than happy to help out and put something back and spent a few hours one afternoon meeting the other judges on Teams and negotiating our way through to the final selected few. The day dawned and we set out and made our way down from Lincolnshire after the morning school run and spent the day driving down to the places we had spent many decades of our lives. When we arrived, at just coming up to 18:00hrs, we were concerned that we had gone to the wrong place as the fairly large car park was almost empty, with only one small BBC Essex van and a couple of other vehicles present. Meeting Matt Mackay - BBC Essex Producer and thoroughly nice chap - he informed us that due to events; the ceremony had been postponed. The date was Septmber 8th 2022. We sat in a local pub having a meal when we discovered that our dear Queen, Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, had died in Balmoral, surrounded by her family. We, and the world, were shocked and stunned by this. At age 96, with 70 years our Monarch, we were not surprised; but we were shocked. An amazing woman, a trailblazer in so many respects; we will never see her like again. After our meal, we went to our hotel and sat watching the events unfold on the room TV. Along with others, the news of her passing affected me emotionally and I found myself writing a poem that evening called 'Our Queen'. I added it to the growing number of poems that will make up my latest poetry collection ('Messages to No One') and watched in sadness and shock as the world mourned the passing of this most amazing of human beings. Over the next few days I continued to write more poems on this (and other) subjects but a second one based around feelings that the ever-present Queen's passing ('Not Gone') made me consider putting music underneath them (the lovely 'Golden Hands' by Keith Melhuish) and submit them via BBC Upload to BBC Essex. Now, I had only uploaded a song (our attempt at a protest piece) earlier in the year regarding the war in Ukraine called 'War in the World (Today)' and two poems also on that subject ('Future Bombs' and 'Madness') but none of them made it to air due, I suspect; to the possible 'political' aspect of these places (which I do undersand). To be frank, I thought my time on air, my swift and fleeting brush with some form of wider exposure as an 'artiste' (I use the term advisedly) was now at an end (maybe to the pleasure of a number of people I know!), It had been months since anything I'd submitted made it and I thought 'that's it, it's over'. Though somewhat sad, I was thankful for the time and opportunity I'd had to actually be on air, and knew that I'd had more than most could ever hope to have. It also concerend me that I may have overstepped the line when I sent several copies of my latest / current poetry collection 'Amazing Skies' (dedicated to BBC Essex Radio and a few people in it) and I wonder if, even though it had come from a good place; it was interpreted as something else, something that made them think twice before inviting me back onto a programme again. I hoped this was not the case, but I do often allow my heart to rule my head and maybe sending these in wasn't the wisest thing I could have done - but it was too late now. Having written these poems, edited them and put them over the pastoral music created by Keith for me for such purposes; I decided that I really had nothing to lose if I sent them in to the BBC. So I did. I wondered if this would be my last 'Hurrah' but I decided to do it anyway and on 12th September, I uploaded my two missives via BBC Upload and felt that no matter what happened; I was happy with my time on air, it was something to be proud of and leave as a (tiny tiny tiny) legacy to my kids. Then, the third thing which fully ignited the need for this Blog post update happened. The very next day (13th September), Adam from BBC Essex phoned me about 15:45hrs and said he was going throught the Uploads and had listened to my two poems which he thought were lovely (especially with the 'moving' music underneath them) and wanted to play 'Our Queen' on air and invite me on to discuss the poem and the role creativity has on dealing with grief and sadness. Of course, modestly, I accepted his invite and asked when I should get ready for the piece. He said, "oh in about 40 minutes if that's ok?" which knocked me back a bit to be frank! We arranged a Teams Meeting and told me it would be Sadie Nine chatting to me (one more in my BBC Essex 'Bingo' Card I could complete) so I set abut getting a PC on and ready to go up in my Studio, I habitually record all of my moments as far as is possible and reorded this one too. I like to think I made some sense and outlined why I'd written what I had, how creativity helps me to combat sadness and grief, and where I was when I heard the news of her passing. Sadie was a lovely interviewer and even called me her 'Special Guest' at the end of the piece, allowing me to plug my website and where people could go to get some of my work if they wished. (To date I've not sold lots of books as a result, but you never know and it was a very kind thing for her to do!) It was a delight, unexpected and wonderful and these three separate yet linked incidents meant I knew I wanted to record this time in my - and our - history so I can remember it in the future. Thanks for reading, thanks for visiting my site and I wish you long life and prosperity. Stay safe all, Alan Crikey but it's nearly been a year since I wrote a Blog post! Far too long, but in my defence; I've had a very dramatic year since last February. In March 2020 I caught COVID and very nearly died.
Yes, honestly, I went into hospital and was soon to be put on a ventilator and told that it was likely I'd die as so many in that first 'wave' who were put onto a machine to help them breathe did not survive. I was lucky - I was put onto the Steroid treatment (Dexamethasone) once asleep and this saved my life. I was in hospital for about 3 weeks and even when I did come out, I was very unwell. Breathless, sleeping 20 hours a day; even walking down the stairs tired me out. THe change to my body, my mind and my stamina was major and I'm still suffering a little even now, having scarring on the lungs and made easily breathless. At some point I'll no doubt write about that year, possibly in a fictional story, maybe not. But I have notes and a lot of poetry that I was writing, and kept writing, throughout the year. In fact, I managed to keep my average poetry writing 'score' (of just about 1 every 3.5 days) and ended up with 102 poems for the year. Not bad when you consider I was asleep for nearly 3 weeks in total! I'm now in the process of editing, formatting and sorting out my 2021 book of poetry ('Amazing Skies') ready for publication. Anyone reading this who has a knowledge of how I like to do things will know I aim to get this intensive work out of the way early in January and be ready for the book to be published on February 1st the following year (so under a month for all that work and to get it printed, which takes about 5 days). But since COVID I have had to adjust my expectations for myself and understand my abilities are less than they were. Thus, I am now aiming for the first week of March for this to be ready to buy in print. Whether I can do it sooner for the Kindle version I'm not sure. But I will do it, and I'll try to update this website a bit more often as well. You have been warned! Stay well, stay healthy, stay safe all, Alan Hi all, long time not been on here as you may (or may not) have noticed. I've not updated this site, nor any of my others (nor my FaceBook Creative and UnderTow pages) since March 2020. Why? Well, in mid March 2020 I caught COVID-19. At first I was unwell and thought I had a Flu or a bad cold. I was aching, shivering yet had a fever, I found it difficult to concentrate (who said 'No change there then'? Come on, own up!) and I was in a pretty poor state, I had a few days in bed, wondering where I'd caught the cold from, and then after about 7-8 days, I started to feel better. My cough was still there, but most other symptoms seemed to ease. I was overjoyed at that time to be contacted by a chap called 'Adam' from BBC Essex, as I'd sent in some of my poetry via BBC Upload and they wanted to air one of the poems set to music (by Keith 'Music Man' Melhuish). The one in particular was a poem of mine called 'Dragons', all about a dream I had one night where I was flying with dragons and did not want to stop. To be picked out as an early contributer to 'BBC Upload' was fantastic and I obviously agreed. The following is an adjusted record made from notes written around the time this all started for a piece I've done for BBC Essex Radio (hosted by Vicky Carter) due to go out sometime in February.
So, get yourself a beverage, make yourself comfortable, settle down and spend a while listening to my story: My name is Alan Mitchell, I’m now 58 ½ and have a wife and two kids. I say kids but one is Edward, a 25-year-old Yeti who lives with Molly his girlfriend in Chelmsford, and my daughter Laura, nearly 12 and a mixture of fun and mischief that is truly delightful. I love and am proud of them both. Always. I was an MPS Police Officer for almost 3 decades until I retired due to ill-health a few years ago. I have been writing fiction, poetry and songs for decades and in recent years also reconnected with another long-time passion of mine – photography. Since 2013, I’ve published 12 books of my own – mainly poetry and fiction – and a book of Ed’s poetry. All available in paperback or as eBooks on the digital river. Both he and I are working on our own novels but I think he’ll finish his first. I’m keen to get my 2020 collection of poems printed, but my usual guy is currently closed due to COVID which is ironic really, as the collection is mostly (but not all) about our ongoing fight with COVID, yet COVID is the very thing that is keeping it from being made public. You may hear a word repeated by me and find it odd given the circumstances. It’s not poor vocabulary nor laziness on my part, and by the end of this chat with Wendy, I hope you’ll understand why I’ll use it so often. The word? Lucky. I was aware of COVID like many of us were in the early part of 2020, but like us all I guess, I never expected to contract it, yet when I did it was the most terrifying part of my life thus far. Like many creative types, in 2020 I’d taken advantage of the wonderful feature that is BBC Upload and I’d submitted a few spoken poems and poems set to music of mine. I’d done prepared them and sent them off and not really thought I’d ever get on air; it just doesn’t happen to people like me. Thus, when I was contacted about one of them, I was utterly overjoyed. I ended up speaking to Victoria Polley about my poem ‘Dragons’ set to music by Keith Melhuish. At the time I’d been shivering, with aching joints, high fever and a bad cough for over a week. I’d not really connected it to COVID. I just felt I had a really bad case of the ‘flu, and when I had the chance to speak about my poetry on the radio, I was actually about 10 days into the illness and was feeling better. My joints were less painful, my cough was easing and I was just a bit out of breath. I thought I had beaten it and that everything was going to be okay. I could not have been more wrong. I’d mentioned that I was unwell to Victoria whilst on air, and being someone recovering from COVID early in 2020, I was invited to speak to Sonia Watson a few days later on air. Unfortunately, before that was due to happen, over the weekend of the 28th and 29th March I began to deteriorate again. I was rushed into hospital on the Sunday having collapsed, pumped full of fluids and then released as I was feeling much better. I was told on the phone that next day that I’d tested positive for COVID and if anything changed to return to the hospital immediately. I again collapsed and another ambulance was called; only this time I was much worse. But even then, I did not realise how poorly I was becoming. Hearing me speak on air later whilst in a mask and on oxygen, you can sense the difference from just a few days before. I went back on the radio not for self-serving purposes, but to talk about how serious it had suddenly become for myself and the family – and it was about to get much worse. We are so lucky as BBC Essex sent Lisa my two on air ‘appearances’ whilst I was still in hospital, they were aware I could possibly die and she wanted them for the kids I suppose. I’ve only been brave enough to listen to them once – but I can really tell just how unwell I was at the time. How I ended up in the ITU @ Broomfield I was becoming ever more exhausted – though I still did not realise it. All my efforts were in trying to breathe and I was told later the same day I spoke to Sonia (by a far too good-looking Consultant) that I was going to be put on a ventilator in the ITU and that I should phone home as it was not certain that I would survive, such was the mortality rate at the time. Looking back, I guess I can see how weak I really was, everything I had and was completely dedicated to taking the next breath, which was becoming ever more difficult. I Facetimed home, it was simply awful to make such a call as they were unaware how much I’d deteriorated. Yet I knew how lucky I was to be able to make it. I’ve dealt with far too many incidents in which death comes quickly and without mercy or pause. Often, those left behind have trauma themselves over how sudden it was, and how they’d not had a chance to say goodbye. I was lucky to be able to do so. Lisa, my wife of nearly 30 years and I looked at each other, but there were no words. As a nurse she was obviously keenly aware of just how critical this situation now was. She has a lot of knowledge, in fact is renowned for it amongst her peers and friends. She didn’t have the luxury of not knowing what this step meant. Both Ed and Laura are neuro-diverse and I couldn’t explain or convey everything that I was thinking and feeling to them. It was awful, terrible; so much I had to say, needed to tell them all, yet no words, only raw and futile emotion. I even wrote a poem sometime later called ‘What?’ which wonders aloud what my son had thought about when I collapsed at home and was blocking the door as my wife phoned for an ambulance. Making that call, hearing the tears in my daughter’s voice, seeing the utter fear in my wife’s eyes, broke me. My Father died suddenly when I was 25 and he was 60. I was then 57 and my son 24 – was history going to repeat itself? Was I going to leave them without any choice or say in the matter, and so quickly? Being put ‘Under’ I thought this had all happened on the Ward and in mere moments – but in fact I was taken to ITU and I was intubated there. My recollections are muddled and mostly terrifying. I vividly remember a flying monkey – like in the Wizard of Oz – jumping onto me and putting a plastic bag over my face as I could only watch. I could not speak, nor scream nor move. I could only blink as the bag went over my face and I was helpless to do anything about it as it was pressed down hard upon my face. It still affects me even now. These memories bite at me, claw at me, spite me. They are sometimes inescapable, their leering, shouting, snarling faces tear at me and try to drag me back to that clear plastic, back down into that darkness, that void. That, nothing. This lack of reliable memories is difficult for me in this instance. I’ve spent years relying on it personally and professionally when I’ve been called to give evidence as part of my day job. But Dr Westall much later told me - as part of a COVID Rehab Course run by Provide - that a lot of what you remember of an ITU experience in such situations is, due to illness, pain, confusion and drugs, often not actually happened. I have long known as a police officer and observer of people that if you witness a conversation and then speak to each participant individually and independently after it, you’ll get different versions of what they remember actually took place. Neither one may be consciously lying, the human brain just remembers some things and not others. The human witness is often the most fallible evidence provider. As an officer, the task is often to hear both sides and to then make a judgement around what specifically happened from the memories of the two participants. Yet this was real to me, I remember not being able to breathe, struggling too but unable to move, to shout, to scream, too weak to do anything then but to succumb. I remember thoughts that if my time on earth was over, if my journey was done, then I’d face whatever lay ahead as best I could. I remember regret and sadness washing over me as I sank, as if it were into a bitter ocean, dark and silent. My human race, run. As I fought to live on, unaware of everything around me I know the following days were traumatic for my family as they’ve been for so many, too many across the country and world. That hated yet yearned-for daily phone call from the hospital outlining what was going on and how the loved one was doing at that time. It must have been hell for Lisa. Unbearable, yet she bore it day after day, all the while updating friends and family. Here I sort of need to pause a while. Like a lot of people, I stumble through life like a vagabond, never feeling much self-worth, never feeling truly part of society around me. Not alienated, but a watcher, a poet journalist if you like; seeing and commenting without really belonging. My life, unlike my personal size, is small and I always felt that I touched lightly lives that I encountered, especially since retiring. But the outpouring of emotion, contact and support Lisa had about me at the time I was under, and then personally later when I was home, simply astonished and completely surprised me. People I’d met only a handful of times on a photography course, led by the unique Jeb, became a detective and found my wife through social media and offered support and help. Pip from another camera club was there offering support and help. People from my daughter’s primary school, especially another Lisa, phoned and offered help and a shoulder should it be needed. My very good friend, I call her my Sister, Mary prayed for me and through her, there were prayer groups around the world taking the time to think of me and my family, people in difficulty that they would never meet. One Teacher at Laura’s School, I’ll only call her KP as she is quite shy though you’d never tell it when she wears her Kangaroo costume to school, spent hours on Facetime with my Daughter across many days as they sat in different rooms, each colouring and chatting away. That’s not part of the job description, she wasn’t asked to do it, she just did it. how can I express my heartfelt gratitude for her doing that for my family? People I’d not spent time with for years, Lee Hall for example an ex-colleague, tracked Ed down and contacted him offering support, as did a few other of my Police friends. It is and was humbling, and as these small acts of wonderful kindness became known to me, an as I began to recover, these as well as the illness began to change me, began to alter me in different ways. In fact, when I was in and then came out of hospital, my wife sagely suggested that I not look at social media for a while, nor check any instant messages as I might feel somewhat overwhelmed. I took her advice and didn’t look for quite a few weeks; yet when I did it still brought me to tears. The comments and love that poured from my screen into me was life-affirming, humbling. Deeply affecting my mind and emotions. How I was saved by the RECOVERY Trial being launched I was lucky again in another area, as the RECOVERY Trial was launched just a day or so after I was on the ventilator in ITU. It was decided that I should be given Dexamethasone as my treatment, and we are convinced it saved my life. After a few more days on this steroid, I was trying to trigger the ventilator on my own which is a good sign, and they gradually brought me to the ‘surface’ but kept me intubated as I woke up in the event they needed to put me back to sleep. A wise and understandable medical decision but something I found increasingly uncomfortable and difficult to tolerate. Each time the tubes moved, which they did often as people were constantly moving around my bed to look after me, the tubes rubbed in my mouth and caused me to gag; but I was groggy and not really with it. No one seemed to understand me and there was nothing I could do about it. In the end I vomited as a result. Twice. It could not have been good as it meant everywhere had to be cleaned thoroughly. Once the tubes were out, even though I felt awful, I was starting to regain some control over my mental faculties and take in my surroundings. I don’t know what Broomfield ITU is like under normal circumstances, but it was a place of heat, noise and continual movement. I’d always assumed it would be a serene place, full of calm and diligent staff softly gliding around the crisp white sheets of the fast asleep, maybe even the tinkling of a local brook in the background adding to the peace and tranquillity of the scene. Nope. There are several staff to a bed, alarms, machines footsteps, lots of voices and other noises going on all the time – it’s like a vision of some medical circle of hell. And for a while, I was quite convinced that one of the Nurses was trying to kill me. I didn’t know why, nor was I able to tell anyone, I just waited for her to do it. All drug induced of course, but I became increasingly concerned for my mental health. When you are incredibly unwell and unaware of your surroundings, the ITU is a safe haven, it’s hope, sanctuary, the wonders of the 21st century and our numerous fantastic devices. But these devices make noise, they have alarms, they have tubes, they need medical staff present to continually check and adjust, like a never-ending game of medical chess; move and counter move. It must be exhausting for the staff – personally I found it almost unbearable. I had to get out, I couldn’t sleep, I was tired, I was overcome with emotions I could not control, and I was terrified. I remember crying whilst a begowned nurse who was in her late 20’s or early 30’s at the most, spoke to me in quiet terms, understanding my tears, my sobs, my inability to cope. I thought at the time I was completely rational and in control of my emotions, but hindsight is often a bitter lens and I can see now that I was completely overwhelmed. I had no support from family or friends and everywhere I looked there were PPE gowned aliens; only their eyes were able to be seen. A personal Hero – Dr Abigail Moore About this time, I became aware of another personal hero of mine – Dr Abigail Moore. Abigail Moore is a young and vibrant woman, confident, knowledgeable and capable. A Consultant at Broomfield she had been part of my care team on the wards and ITU as she was, and no doubt has been, for hundreds of others. She has the ability to care for you in a holistic way – as both a patient with medical needs and as a human being, with emotions, fears and personal frailties. All of the staff at Broomfield, the Consultants, Nurses, HCA’s, domestic staff and those who prepare the meals we were served three times a day; they are all part of the living organism that is the hospital. A family society in which each does their part and ensures the family thrives and survives. They are used to their part in the family, used to the Wards and Departments they work and perhaps specialise in, and are sure and comfortable in their roles. Yet when I was in Hospital in March and April; the hospital was silent, deserted, like a film set at the end of the day when the lights were off and the cameras had stopped filming. I met nurses from specialist departments on COVID wards trying their best, student nurses assigned to wards and roles they’d not yet had experience of. Everyone was already tired and doing their best. And some, even then, were really struggling. Everything was in flux. nothing was certain and you could see, nearly a year ago now, how much they were doing to keep their own support frameworks going, how they were trying to adapt to a totally alien situation. At such times, you need Leaders and I’m sure that whenever a review is done by Broomfield of what went well and how, and what can be learnt moving forwards; there will be many such leaders recognised. At least, I hope so. For me, Abigail Moore is one of them. She could see my medical needs, could see my obvious and mounting distress, could see I was desperately struggling. Once able too, I discharged myself from the ITU completely against medical advice and was put into a side-room in a ward away from the rest of the COVID areas and ITU. I was given dire warning by another Consultant – who had been unwilling to disconnect me from the ventilator in the first place for solid medical reasons – regarding what could happen to me on a non-specialist ward but I was adamant. My wife calls it being stubborn, I call it having commitment. With the wave of daily cases coming in to the hospital, freeing up a bed from the ITU and HDU could have been seen as a good thing. But Abigail didn’t leave it or me, there. She continued to check on me and persuaded me to return to the HDU where I could be closely monitored 24 hours a day. My fear at a return to the ITU and all it can mean, was handled delicately and with a gentleness that was incredibly effective. Her support and care; and it is obviously more than just a job to her. You can see in her eyes that this is not a job, not just a career as such; it is a vocation, a deeply embedded consideration and care for others. It is wonderful. As I’d been effectively out for the count for quite a while, even though my phone and personal effects were with me, in a sterile plastic bag with my name and details on it; my phone was by now completely dead and I had no way of charging it. I have to admit that as I got the phone out, it sent a shiver down my spine as I recognised that it would have been delivered to my wife like that had I died. An unknown and unremarkable name on a patient’s personal effects bag. All that was left of their time in hospital. Anyway, although I had my phone, I’d been so swiftly brought into hospital with only the thought of medical care in our minds, that I had no charger. Thus, no Charger or Cable meant I was in a room completely on my own for over 20 hours a day. The staff had understandably cut to the bone the amount of time they spent with patients for obvious reasons and it was only for food or to check on blood pressure, oxygen levels and other observations that staff ventured into my room. I’d gone from complete and total overwhelming sound, heat, movement and confusion, to stillness, silence and echoes. I was near where the medical helicopter lands, but was too weak to get to the window, which had slats covering them and reducing the amount of light that came in, perfect for my mood and sensitive eyes at that time. Lisa tried to get a phone charger and cable sent in, but those at the front desk refused it and I can’t blame them for doing so. But it meant I was isolated, fearful, totally alone with my thoughts and weaknesses. Another Hero – ‘Sue’ Thus, we now encounter another hero of mine – who I only know as Sue. Social Media posts by Lisa were informing friends about my situation and condition, and she was asking for help and advice in how to get such charger and cable into the hospital so I could have contact with her and the outside world. And remember, whilst I was in this room all on my own, the world was changing almost beyond recognition outside and I had no idea. Music is a major part of my life, I use it to self-soothe, to spark ideas and thoughts, to instil confidence and derive much pleasure from it. With my music partner Keith Melhuish, we are in a project called ‘UnderTow’ and have written almost 200 songs together. We’ve had bits of our work on BBC Essex and even Radio 4; so, you can see that music is a daily need for me. I live both with in it and as part of it. I have hundreds of songs on my phone, but it was on the side table dead and unresponsive, useful only as a paperweight. And as unresponsive as my own body, it was capable of many things, but had no power to do any of them and I understood it’s situation. This is where ‘Sue’ from a department in Broomfield comes into the story. She heard about my plight and sent another plastic bag to me in the ward with a short message donating her charger and cable without hesitation. I still have it I think. The outside of the bag reads ‘Alan Mitchell’ Frailty / Gosfield Ward’ whilst the note reads: “Alan, you don’t know me but I heard you needed a charger for phone to speak with family. You can have mine! Get well soon. Sue’ Then there’s a Smiley face and in a somehow wonderful magic touch, she has added an NHS hashtag. This is someone proud of where she works, and is happy to share that. Wonderful! iPhone equipment – other makes are available – is not cheap and for her to do that for me brings her firmly into hero status for me. Her friends and family must know what a lovely person she is. Sue and I have never met and I don’t even know her last name! But I owe her a lot, as I was able to lose myself in music I love and even start to write out and complete poems as I recovered and could concentrate for a few minutes each day. It is this type of thing that shows the best of humanity. Demonstrates the kindness and compassion in a world where only the worst of humanity is often on the news. When angry, people are easily moved to write letters of complaint, to berate others on TV and in the media. Say the wrong thing on Twitter or other such streams and you can be vilified. Yet here was a thoughtful and selfless act by someone who did not know me nor my family, had no one looking at her to see what she would do; but who perhaps recognised just how crucial such an act would be for a person still desperately unwell and becoming ever concerned about his own mental well-being. I honestly cannot thank her enough. Back on the Ward and then another fear rises Having been convinced by Abigail Moore that she would feel easier if I would return to the HDU from this side room on a different ward, I was moved later that same day. I was weak, breathless and still on continual oxygen via a mask and I was still not perhaps totally free from the ITU drugs nor their effects. But I was back in touch with my family and able to play music and distract myself from making notes and jotting down thoughts – some of which made entertaining reading when I returned to them months later! I knew quite early on that Ed had been unwell for a few days, but then Lisa sent me a message that made me numb and cold with fear. Ed was currently being transported into hospital on a blue light emergency. A parents’ first main role is to keep their child as safe as possible. To protect them and keep them from harm. Here was my firstborn coming into this half-world of being in hospital, which offered no visitors, no real human contact, and no real connection with anyone save for the other breathless and unwell people in the same room as you. My fear that Ed’s illness trajectory could be the same as mine held me in a grip of ice. Even before he arrived, I was making bargains with God that if he needed a Mitchell family member to die – well I’d go happily, even jauntily, if Ed were to recover. We ended up in opposite beds and I could see that he was in difficulty. I did what I could to support him, knowing he was having difficulty with the sudden loss of control over his own body. His neuro-diverse situation means that as well as seeing the world a few degrees differently to others; this uniqueness creates extra issues for him and often means he is less equipped to cope in certain ways. This was definitely one of them. He couldn’t rest, couldn’t sleep and was often panicking, all of which I understood. But I could not help him. I sent him message after message, showed him the various ways to try to breathe that I’d been shown, but nothing really helped. Being unable to help my own son, unable to hug him or walk to him, destroyed me. I felt then, and feel now, that I failed him. In this most difficult of time, I was unable to do what was needed to support him. Dr Moore saw that we were both struggling and I think wisely moved Ed into another 4-bed room where he could be monitored and rest whilst I could get some sleep. This was a blessing and a curse; my sense of failure was overwhelming and my mood was incredibly low. Physio and OT help and first walk again in weeks! I’ve always felt that humour – or I guess often what I think passes for humour – can often help in situations. The first time I was asked by a nurse to take a short walk sticks in my mind. Two very young medics, one a Physio and one an Occupational Therapist I think visited me and told me I needed to be in the chair and maybe walk a bit. Standing up for the first time in a couple of weeks, I felt like a new born deer; my legs were shaky, my body felt like it was a ton and I had no control. Bless them, both these medical professionals immediately reassured me and told me that if I felt that I was going to fall, I should let them know and they’d catch me. That made me laugh, which made me breathless, which made me sit down again. Once I was able to speak again (which took a moment) I pointed out that I am 6’ 4” tall, well over 20 stone and whilst either of them might provide me with a pleasurable surface upon which to land, I doubted that either would survive me falling upon them. both of them together would not weigh close to my bulk and Death by falling patient would not be good on a certificate. I therefore implored them that, should I know I was going to fall, they should let me and I’d do the best I could to land without causing damage to them, myself or the floor. Lisa coming in and out of hospital in one day I know many have lost loved ones, and that there are family’s with incredibly traumatic stories to convey. But even though Ed and I were slowly on the mend, there was a bit more drama to come. Lisa is asthmatic and had been keeping my daughter and Ed’s girlfriend Molly together and calm at home, whilst she was dealing with being unwell herself and dealing with her own emotions and fears. Being a nurse, she recognised that the pain in one of her legs could be a sign of something nasty. She didn’t want to leave Laura and Molly but knew that she might need to come into A&E to get it checked out. This brings me to another hero of mine – Vicki Dennett. A colleague and friend who immediately offered help and support. She even brought Lisa in to hospital to get her leg checked out. Thus, for a few hours, Broomfield had three of the 4 Mitchells in its buildings, but we weren’t offered our own car parking space or loyalty points. Lisa was lucky, her issue was treatable without a hospital stay and after an examination and X-ray, she was back at home within a couple of hours. Released back into the wild In all, I spent a little under three weeks in hospital and compared to some that’s nothing. I was very lucky. Ed was in for a week with pneumonia and suspected COVID, though unlike me that was never confirmed. He was lucky. We were both released back into the wild on the same day but I was unable to stand or walk more than a yard or two and had to use a wheelchair to get to the car. Looking back, even though I’d reached the required 94% oxygen saturation, I wasn’t as well as I kept telling everyone I was, though I also realise that they knew better about my health than I did and were not fooled for a moment. Coming home was wonderful. I’d longed to be hugged by Laura but she was a bit reticent and it took time for her to settle with me again. Time I was so very lucky to have now. It took me months to be able to sleep less that 14 or 15 hours a day, to be able to walk more than ten yards at a time, to be able to walk up or down our two short flights of stairs to my bedroom in one go. I was continually breathless, having flashbacks and nightmares and unwanted memories almost without respite. But I was lucky. I had time. COVID Rehab and Ruth B and her Team I don’t know about others who’d been in hospital and maybe ITU but one I was out of danger, the aftercare I received was good, but perhaps not as practical as it could have been. Dr Moore kept in touch and mentioned that some sort of therapy clinic could be set up at some point, but she didn’t know when. I was invited to participate in a few different ways to help advertise and publicise the RECOVERY Trial and what the NHS was trying to do with it. I happily agreed. I’ve always wanted to be known for my creative endeavours, but really wanted to pay something back to the NHS and the staff ho had helped me and my family so much and who were still working to help others, far too many others. We had small pieces online about Ed and I, was interviewed for a Newspaper piece which was scrapped when Boris got COVID, and went on Radio and even TV speaking about that time and the Recovery Trial. Presenters and staff at BBC Essex had kindly kept in touch and I was invited back on air a few times in 2020 where I tried to thank and publicise the daily battles that staff are dealing with. I fully understand that I probably didn’t do a great job, but this was a rebirth of a sort. A manner in which to get involved in a way my limitations would allow, and to give something back. I revelled in it, but then I’ve always liked Revels though possibly prefer peanut M&M’s. Dr Moore was able to get me involved in another Trial – this one is run by Ruth Barlow and her Team at the COPD Service run by Provide in Essex. Without funding, without central support but with a lot of goodwill and commitment from her team, other specialists and doctors; they created a 6 week, 4 hourly sessions a week Rehab Course, bookended by Walking Assessments. Introduced to a disparate group of other lucky COVID survivors, we used webcams to complete two weekly physical sessions, one on a Monday and one on a Friday. on Tuesdays and Thursdays, we would have education or information sharing sessions. Dr Moore gave one presentation and for the first time I could see her face, and what a lovely face it is too, and such lovely hair! Crikey, she is another Doctor far to good looking in my opinion. These sessions brought us together, sharing our journey’s, our experiences and becoming a group used to the whipcrack of the demon Physios that are Leanne and Natalie. Having such a resource available to us was, I think, crucial to our inner wellness, not just our physical health improved. Again, I’d been lucky to be part of this first trial of the Rehab Course, which proved in many ways to be clinically beneficial to those who endured - I mean of course enjoyed - it. The sessions helped us understand what we had endured and gave us information to fill in some of the blanks. Let me explain – since coming out of hospital I’ve been haunted by something from my ITU stay. I could hear the nurses and staff dealing with a woman in the bed next to mine. They turned her, patted her back to shift nasty stuff in her lungs and attended to her as they did to all on the ITU. But I could sometimes hear how concerned they were over her. How they were trying to get her into another hospital but that time was running out. I remember them putting up screens and hearing her parents arrive, very distressed. They left and the screens were taken down, she was still alive. I don’t know how old she was, nor her name, or anything at all about her. But I remember the sounds her body made as they patted her, as they turned her, and they did all they could for her. A number of patients died in the ITU whilst I was there, but I left it not knowing what happened to the silent girl next to me. I wanted to find out if she possibly survived without breaking any confidentiality or medical bars, and during a post-ITU catch-up with a Consultant and Head Nurse, I asked about her. Dr Chris Westall is one of the Consultants in the ITU and during that conversation; dropped the proverbial bombshell. It was entirely possible that this woman, this girl, had never existed, that my drug addled and confused brain was in a waking dream, a hallucination even. That my worry, angst and fear for her was even more futile than I already believed they were. That whilst much of what I remembered about the ITU was possibly based on a series of part-remembered incidents which contained a kernel of truth, what and how I remembered it was unlikely to be what actually happened. I found this devastating. I’d written about this woman, had a memory in my head about her in the next bed, could remember the words of the medics, the beeps and notes of the machines keeping her alive. Yet it was possibly all untrue? A complete fiction, and one I’d not written? Awful. The sessions with the staff taking time away from immediate medical work to speak to us 10 in the group cannot be overemphasised in their benefits to us. They helped ground us, inform us, share with and among us our thoughts, fears and sadness’s. Even now, we are occasionally in touch on WhatsUp to provide some support and an ear from someone who knows directly a little of what you speak. I hope for the sake of those still yet to be infected by COVID that Ruth and her team get the funding they so urgently require to make this brilliantly tailored course by the COPD service available to far more than she is able too at this time. But please don’t tell Ruth I said this, it’s best she doesn’t know. Finally, a how I feel about a new chance at life (second opportunity) I’m here, alive. Making progress, little daily victories. I know I’ve been lucky, very lucky. We came through it, many, too many have not. The Dexamethasone treatment I was put on just a day after being ventilated and the care of all of the medical and other staff at Broomfield saved my life. The fact that my Son came into hospital and the bed opposite me on the Frailty Ward but also survived is simply astonishing, wonderfully so. What is ‘taken’ from us in this situation of course, myself, my family and other similar patients, is control; power. As Humans we need to have some impact on how we lead our lives; something ridiculed by COVID. The ability we continually take for granted to make our own decisions, to talk when you want, breathe when you want, walk upstairs or outside when you want, how you want and for the length of time you want. All gone. Breathing is natural, normal, autonomically unconscious. Obviously, a habit we are used too and we justifiably give it not a thought. Until it isn’t. Until it can’t be done easily, nor without thought. Until every breath is a fight, every movement a jarring notification that your body is no longer your own. You no longer have control over it anymore; and you wonder, even months later; if you truly ever will again. You are reduced to being merely a breathless passenger in your own skin as something else makes the decisions for you. Infinitely small, maybe just a few atoms, maybe not even a smear in a Petri dish; you’ve been hijacked by tiny malevolent raiders who will decide your fate and how, and if, you survive. The new vaccines, the new ways to treat patients are continually being reviewed and enhanced. By the time I came out of hospital, the practice of having COVID patients lie on their front was becoming known for being beneficial. This simple yet effective ‘treatment’ is now widely in use I believe, and again it helped Ed and I. Ten months later, I’m often breathless but I can breathe, always tired but I can walk, scared but I can function. We are all, we know, living in a strange Sci-Fi dream, just coping. Until the time that we, and the rest of the world; no longer have to endure but can seek help and guidance for our combined PTSD. We change, but so does the virus. We alter the vaccines and it alters itself, mutating and continuing. Yet we will fight, and I have every belief that we will beat it, learn to live with it, to function as a society again. It may take a while, but I think we will be lucky, I think it will happen. Never underestimate the fight within the human being. For all of our frailties, for all of our myriad faults, the bickering, the hate, the bile; the human spirit has the capacity for great things, even if that is, at times; just taking the next breath, the next step, the next small victory. I’ve adopted a mantra, a few words that I remember each and every day and which somehow give me hope – ‘Every day is an adventure, every hour a bonus’. I wear my heart on my sleeve far more now, unabashed and unafraid to tell people how much I cherish them, how much they mean to me, how much I’ve been changed. Both my body and mind post-COVID are different and, lucky to be alive; I still wake each day in pain, discomfort, sometimes more breathless than others, sometimes struggling to get out of bed to even wash. Yet lucky to be here, and thankful that it is so. Am I somewhat sheepish that it took almost dying to make this change in my life? Yes, I am, but it’s a truism that you only realise how much you want something when it’s taken away. I returned from one of the circles of hell and I’m joyous to be here. I’m thrilled to see the morning light, to smell the air, to listen to the human world around me as it adapts, changes and evolves. Whilst the natural world continues unabated, natures forces, the wild flora and fauna I can see unaffected by our personal battles and grief. This brand-new day, every day, reminds me how lucky I am to be alive, to still be with my family whilst thousands in the UK, and millions across the world, never had the same opportunity. Politicians and commentators speak easily about how each death is important and to be mourned. It’s become an easy soundbite like the ‘new normal’ term. I’m not suggesting that it is insincere; but it fails to grasp how devastating this disease and effects are at a deeply personal level. I suppose that they cannot in a few moments on TV. Nor can we, Wendy and I, convey fully to you in this chat our experiences and what it has left behind in its wake. We can only hope to provide a thumbnail sketch of how we dealt with it, and deal with it still. My family is still partly broken, even nearly a year after my hospital stay. The effects of the initial disease were awful, but now still living with them and in Long COVID, my life is forever changed, and so are the lives of my family. And we are only 5; the world is being broken piece by piece and the anti-COVID conspiracy theorists, the stubborn idiots who refuse to wear a mask, those who feel it is their right to break the rules and gather in large groups as they see fit, who even attack the police trying to protect them and others. Or those who simply do not believe it is real or if it is, that it won’t affect them; it all saddens and infuriates me. The dis-information around the illness and the vaccines and the spreaders of untruth and falsehoods are almost as insidious and as dangerous as the infection itself. I’d not wish this journey we have taken on anyone. I’m glad that for many, even hopefully for most, they’ll have a few symptoms or maybe none at all. That’s great, write it off as a bad cold or an annoying incident quickly forgotten. But if you are unlucky, if it does really hit you – it hits you hard. It strips away any thought but one: to continue to breathe. It reduces you from whatever you are to what you can just about manage. It wrecks you; it destroys you; it changes you. There are those more at risk than others; yet there are also the super fit, the super healthy, the runners and cyclers, the last ones you would imagine being badly affected by it. Yet they catch too it, and some tragically die. Each death is more than just a story, or a soundbite. More than just sadness and grief and tragedy. Person by person, like a ripple on an ever-widening pond, the effects of each death, each life lost, is spreading across the world. Joining up with others of different nations, different genders, different races, religions, sexualities, perspectives on life. It changes them, it changes us. And if we are to be changed, then I for one want to try to be changed at least a little for the better, at least to take more notice of those around me, of what is around me, of my part in others’ happiness or sadness. To be aware of the second chance I have for as long – or as short – as I have it and to be better. Not in a bionic man way, but in a subtle, careful and caring way. To leave a place better than I found it, to take more care with others, to listen to my body and my emotions and to change. It is changing the world around us. It is changing those around us. Forever. After I’d met briefly Vicky and Wendy just to break the ice, as so often happens, I wrote a poem straight after – perhaps you’ll take even more time to read it? It’s a reaction to thinking about this idea of having a second chance, about almost being reborn and what that can mean, and it's called … SECOND GLANCE 008 (734) We have another chance, you and I we need not sit, nor wonder why our lives were spared, whilst others passed we had no choice, we were not asked and struck down full in earth’s decay were sent to ITU to stay and fight and claw our way to life one a husband, one a wife both asleep as world then changed was so confused (am not ashamed to say to all that I’m now less than was before), and such a mess is left of me, my body, weak I feel so old! A vast antique! there is so much I cannot do (I speak for self and not of you) yet every day I wake and rise am glad to see a new sunrise, it’s all adventure, second chance a life renewed, a second glance Chalklands, Essex 1637 Thursday 21st January 2021 For Wendy, who I met while making the BBC Essex Radio Programme on COVID This has perforce been a very long post, but I thought I'd create it as my new book is released today - '20/20 Hindsight', which was named before I got COVID-19 - although it's only on Kindle at this time as the print shop I use is obviously closed due to lockdown! When it is able to be printed, i'll be selling it on my Shop page, the ISBN is: 978-0-9935949-5-3 and I hope it will not be too long before life starts to become a little easier for us all. Every Blessing to you and yours, and thank you for taking the time to read this. Keep reading, Alan I've been ruminating, as is my wont, on the nature of art and its delicate pursuit. I've been reviewing previous my work, setting out some 'jottings' and ideas for stories that have been milling around in my head, and wondering how art is so important to me, yet so amorphous and intangible when I try to create it myself.
Music, Photography, Poetry and Fiction; I try them all. I love writing lyrics - indeed Keith and I have a few new songs in the making and one of them (at least!) has the potential to be fabulous - and singing and my sessions (over Skype) with the lovely and youthful Donna Kirke @ Legacy Vocal Coaching are already making some useful changes to my vocal range. I hope that as a result, my vocal performances will improve over time. And at nearly 58, I thought it about time I looked into how to enhance my singing! My poetry seems to run without too much interference, I can often find a line or thread running through my head which is the catalyst for a poem to be written. As for stories, ah well I have too many jottings around and too many story ideas that I doubt I'll have time to write them all - and that is even if I don't have more ideas pop into my head! Photography has taken a bit of a back seat recently due to the other projects ongoing. I have spent many months in recent years focussing on my photography style and technique that I'm happy with my current knowledge and skill level. And where someone might go out and take a photo, I'm more likely to sit down and write a poem instead! We have a standing joke at the 'Creative Eye Essex' gatherings that we most of us don't consider ourselves as artists. This has evolved into badges sharing the hashtag '#NotAnArtist' (thecreativeyeessex.co.uk or @tceessex on Twitter or on Facebook as @thecreativeyeessex) as we often start our conversations with this throw away line; seeking to be humble and avoid too much criticism (not that TCEE are critical, they are not, but you know what it is like when you have little confidence in your own talents) up front. So, I seem to be a Jack of all trades and yes, perhaps Master of none. As artistic pursuits go, writing is my main and first love, music second and photography an important third. Yet am I an artist in any of them? I try to produce work that is pleasing, thought provoking and entertaining. I even have a 'fan' in the USA and made a sale via the Amazon store (thanks Carole M!) and I keep writing, keep hoping and just continue to evolve as much as I can. Yet Art - in all of it's forms - is not easy to pin down and categorise more than the very general. And art is always in the eye, ear or other organ of the beholder. I'm happy with what I do, content that I produce the best I can at that time in my own personal journey and that it does have some intrinsic worth. Yet without an established audience, without a 'following' and without the validation that such gifts would bring, I still feel like an outsider, banging on a door into the world of art and literature but not being noticed and thus the door, with a tantalising glass window in it, allows me to view the party ongoing within, but does not allow me to join it. Must go, I have finally written a special original story for my next collection of short stories (from one of the many jottings I mentioned earlier), and there's a final one to be edited and polished for inclusion that I've not even started yet! Stay safe, stay well, keep reading and washing your hands all! Alan It's going to be a short one this month as I am very busy with a variety of projects! My latest Collection of poetry - 'Distant Echoes' [ISBN 978-0-9935949-2-2] is published along with a re-worked, edited and expanded version of my first Novella, 'Reflections - Memories of a Woman' [ISBN 978-0-9935949-8-4]. This is the first time I've published two books at once, and I am so happy with both of them!
The artwork by @RubenArt is wonderful on the Novella and the format and contents of both these works are the very best I can do. It's easy to see where changes, additions or alterations could be made in everything I do; but I'm thrilled with what i feel is the next step that I've taken on this artistic journey. Now all I need is an audience... Stay safe all, keep reading! Alan You may (or may not) have read about my recent collaboration with local artist (FB @RubenArt) Jodie. I met her through The Creative Eye at a Networking Event in Southend last year and we got to chatting about work that we were doing, and it soon became clear that a collaboration might be really good for us both. [Below is the FB Logo for The Creative Eye Essex] (TCEE)] Jodie is a very interesting person and artist. Multi-talented, she creates all sorts of artworks across a host of mediums. Her art immediately chimed with me and so I ended up asking her if she'd like to collaborate with me on a project. To my surprise and delight, she agreed.
It took us a while, there were lots of discussions, opinions and options reviewed, but it was all done with one end in mind - to create something unique and interesting. Something that people might want to buy. Thus, tomorrow the 1st February 2020, we will be unveiling our project in all of its glory with a special offer to those who might be interested in buying something very different and unique. The images below give you a hint without giving anything away... Stay Safe and come back tomorrow for the great reveal! Alan For some reason, I always 'enjoy' even numbered years far more than odd. Maybe because I was born in an even numbered year or maybe because of something different about my personality and the way my mind works (yes I know what you're saying). Anyway, this January I've been really busy, hence why I've not posted until now. First, the by now almost standard news - I have a NEW book of poetry being published, ready to buy, from tomorrow. It's called 'Distant Echoes' and it is my entire output for 2019. You can see an image of the final book cover below. This collection has 120 poems across a huge range of subjects, thoughts, and musing. The way the book looks, the finish and overall design of the book is, for me at least; the best I've ever done (so far!).
I am immensely proud of the work I've done for my cover photo, the additions and changes to the image I completed in Photoshop; as well as the inside contents. After SEVEN previous books of poetry I really feel like I'm starting to get things right! Anyway, it's available from tomorrow for only £3.99 (plus P&P should it be required), it can be personalised by myself if you'd like a special message or dedication, and it will make someone who is into poetry a great gift for less than two cups of coffee at a local Coffee outlet. In my next post, I'll be partially revealing some interesting and exciting news (well I think it's exciting anyway!) Keep reading, stay safe all, Alan and although it's quite cold, I have lots to do which keeps me warm (at least on the inside!). I have really enjoyed getting 'out there' a little in the last couple of months and hooking up with 'The Creative Eye' (Essex) group. The discovery of the group and its people has energised me in a soft and delicate way and stimulated my thoughts and creative endeavours no end.
So much so that I'm now working on the artwork for our (UnderTow's) next music project - which will be 'Pieces of Eight - London Diary' - and have also decided to complete some more work on an earlier (Kindle only) Novella ('Reflections - Memories of a Woman'). This was released some time ago and once released I basically forgot about it. But doing some computer and NAS housekeeping I re-discovered it and thought it might make a nice and quick project for very early next year. I've been thinking that I'd like printed copies of all of my work, not some in print and some on Kindle, and this will be the first of the couple to have this treatment. My intention is to rework it (slightly) and I've asked a local artist I've met at The Creative Eye networking event to come up with a few pieces of art that will fit within the A5 framework and suit the storyline. The artist concerned has a great look and feel to her work which should suit the subject matter perfectly and I'm pleased to report that she has tentatively agreed to consider it and come the New Year I hope to have a meeting with her to chat about my ideas and 'requirements'. Until then, I'll keep the rest of the ideas for it under wraps! My work on the current collection ('Distant Echoes') continues apace as the year trickles down to a final few days. Going through the book, now at over 130 pages, is a semi fun, semi awful requirement if I'm to reduce any spelling or other mistakes to the minimum. This final polish of each of the collections, whilst the document itself is still 'alive' as more poems are written; makes it an interesting pursuit. I'm ploughing my way through the work, formatting and sorting out photos and poems, ensuring that the introduction to each 'chapter' is readable and interesting, and creating the Contents and First Lines elements to it at the same time. I realise that it's not as arduous as having to mark a high number of Science papers (as a mum at Laura's school who is also a Science Teacher at a local secondary school told me tonight that she has to do before Thursday); but it is nevertheless something that requires concentration if it to to result in a pleasing end product. So, with just two days to go before the end of term, as the anniversary of my fathers death (on the 22nd) approaches, and as we rush towards the closing of the year; I'll take this opportunity in wishing you and yours a Happy Christmas and a safe and enjoyable New Year. I hope you'll pop back early in 2020 to see what I'm up too, but in the meantime, take care and keep reading! Alan I must say that last night made me feel quite warm, tired but overall happy.
I'm not sure how, but over the last few weeks I've been lucky enough to discover a great FB (that's FaceBook for the uninitiated or those not as 'hip' as I am) group. It's run by the lovely Abbey Parsons and is called 'The Creative Eye'. Now, that name is 'super cool' for a number of reasons (just think about it for a few minutes) and I love it. I signed up to go to one of the Events run by Abbey at the 'Folded space' in Southend in October (I blogged about it so you can have a look if the mood takes you.) After that event, Abbey asked me if I could run a Poetry Workshop at their next monthly event which was last night at 'The Metal Art School' in Chalkwell Hall, Chalkwell (Southend). When Abbey asked me, I was surprised, shocked even, and very very happy to have been asked. Now Abbey is a real 'go getter'. Tall, willowy with lovely eyes and the best pink hair I've ever seen. She has set up The Creative Eye, used social media as it should be used - as a force for good - and is bringing all sort of 'creatives' together to network and blur the boundaries between different disciplines. Photographers, painters, writers, poets, singers, any and all types of creative people are welcome at her events and she manages to make a comfortable and inclusive environment whilst not being too conspicuous - a very difficult line to walk. Anyway, I took a long time preparing for the two hour session. i did some online research (it is 2019 after all) and looked up variations on how to run a workshop. I didn't know how many might turn up, what the ages would be and how to cater for the widest possible mix whilst not making it too boring. I wanted to give some background about the way I write poetry and fiction, some history of Poetry (from 'Poesis' (from the Greek meaning 'making' or 'creating'), some examples of poetry (I chose Gerald Manley Hopkins and 'God's Grandeur' and Louis MacNeice's 'The Suicide'), a short comparison of older poetry forms contrasting them with the newer more contemporary styles and then a bit of 'audience participation'. Perhaps not as unique as I'd like, I thought I'd get those who attended - if they were still in the room and hadn't left or fallen asleep - to create a poem of some type in the final hour or so and then lead a discussion around what we had all written and what that might reveal about us. I'm a great believer that, no matter what you create; it shows at least some of who and what you are. Well, I learnt a lot about myself, what I'd do different next time (if there is one) and I think the session went fairly well. I had some good feedback on the night (and since) and have made a few new connections. The whole group really threw themselves into it and each created a poem and read it out - very brave. I'm lucky in that I can usually create a poem of some sort fairly easily, and I'd written 15 individual lines which i thought were interesting and gave the chooser a fighting chance of one of them sparking something in their heart or mind. These lines could be first lines or last lines or be placed within the poem; or just used as a springboard for a different poem altogether. Everyone wrote something that was worthwhile and moving in its way. (You can read my short poem on the relevant page.) This part of the session was the most successful I think. There was lots of laughter, discussion, exchange of viewpoints and ideas and the group became more open and lively. It was just what I'd hoped would happen. There were Bourbons, Custard Cremes, Party Rings and even Jaffa Cakes to nibble on and I played them the Orson Well's part of 'The Fall of the House of Usher' (Alan Parsons Project, Tales of Mystery & Imagination, about Edgar Alan Poe's works) to get started. As usual, I recognised on-the-fly where I needed to cut some of the prepared parts of my session plan and I adjusted accordingly. Now it meant that I did miss out some classic (and classy) nuggets of information but hey-ho that's required when you need to be flexible to keep your audience awake - I mean interested. No, I mean enthralled. If you're a creative person, of any discipline, activity, hobby, inner drive or need to reach out through your craft; look for the 'The Creative Eye Essex' group and if you see the Logo (below), you know you're at the right place. It's friendly, inclusive and growing - well worth getting involved. Anyway, check out the new poem written during the session to see what you think and I'll see you next time. Take care all, keep reading.... Alan are usually cold, bring with them rain, and a desire in everyone to get inside and hibernate within your warm home until spring arrives. As winter really takes hold, you don't see many people and even your neighbours are not as easy to connect with as during the warmer months.
I mention this as this evening I had something happen that has not happened before and it made me smile and warm inside. If you know anything about me at all you'll know that as an 'artist' (if I may style myself thus), it is my reaction to emotions, events, conversations or sights that are the 'engine' for my poetry. These events are what drives the requirement, the need, for the poem to be written. When I hear the guitar styling from Keith, it generates a response and I start to hear the song and the lyrics in my head and within a fairly short time, the song - melody and lyric - are written. It then moves onto another stage in the process of its gradual birth but in general, this is how a song is written (by me at least). When I have my camera (I usually have one with me) and I see something that connects or 'chimes' with me, then I hear the voice of one of my photography heroes - Henri Cartier-Bresson. He would talk about taking a photograph in the 'decisive moment'. miss it and the image is lost forever; but record it and you record something important (if only to yourself). So, this evening I'd been working on the artwork for the 'Rogue Studios Session' CD and feeling that, with the agreement of Keith; I'm close to the final iteration. At the same time - I can mutli-task - I have had the USA Formula 1 weekend on in the background (other sporting events are available). It is cold outside, there are fireworks going off frightening children and animals alike but, safe and warm in my study, things were ok with the world. And then I received it. Without preamble, without warning. An email. An email from someone who I choose to call a 'fan' of my work. A person who took the time to connect with me via email and tell me that she liked my poetry, that there was a spelling mistake on one of my poems (now corrected) and that having a Contact Me Form as well as my email details on the same page was probably redundant. Now, I'm always full of doubt over my work, my creative output. I do my best to create what I 'see' or 'hear' in my head, but I'm never fully satisfied and my lack of success, my lack of feedback and engagement by visitors to my site (please don't stop visiting though!) creates a huge deep well of doubt that I'm doing anything useful at all. Yet I've always said that if just one person liked something I'd written, recorded or sung, if just one person had a positive reaction to my creation; that it would be a vindication of sorts. And now, not only am I aware of a person who likes what they have read, she has taken the time to reach out and tell me so. This is a huge thing for me and it has made a huge difference to how I view my work; which is a great thing considering I'll have a new book out early next year ('Distant Echoes', my poetry diary of 2019)! If you've ever seen Baldrick in the Final 'Blackadder' series, it's a bit like having a bullet with your name on it, even if you make it yourself. [That made a lot more sense in my head when I was writing it than it might appear now, but I'll leave it here because someone likes my work and has told me so]. Stay safe all, and keep reading! Alan Well it's been an interesting month! After our lovely family adventure to the USA in August/September, returning to the UK (which was full of the 'B' word) and a return to school and work for some was a bit of a come down. Our time in the USA had been full of fun, drama (Hurricane Dorian) and excitement. Our Park visits, the 'kids' swimming with Dolphins at the Dolphin Research Centre in the Keys and our driving over 1,500 miles in a huge Chevy Surburban (if you ever watch any US Cop drama's it's the huge machine with three permanent sets of seat, a cavernous book and a 5.3 litre behemoth of an engine!) that was a joy to drive. Anyway, on our return the regular routine recommenced as it usually does and I got on with preparing the 'evidence' for Laura's EHCP Tribunal. This took a long time and a lot of effort but within this I was still writing my poems and recognising that I still haven't completed the work on my second collection of short stories (we all need some types of guilt in our lives and there are two straight away!). Anyway, I do use Twitter, FaceBook and when I can work it out, Instagram. And I'm always looking out for new things, new people, new contacts and new experiences. Lisa told me about a FaceBook group 'The Creative Eye' which is a new group that hopes to build networks for creative people and share something unique to all involved along the way. They - in the form of the lovely Abbey Parsons who runs it all - asked if there were any poets, singers, artists, photographers or other creative types who might like to attend a networking event at 'The Folded Space in Southend. Well, throwing caution and ego to the wind; I replied and said I'd go along if they had no-one more interesting offer. To my surprise (and consternation) the idea of a tall fat white haired late 50's chap turning up to speak poetry at them didn't deter and I found myself invited along! I spoke to the Yeti to see if he wanted to cmoe along as well but he was a bit non-committal and thus I wasn't sure. But I powered up my little PA system, checked batteries and microphones and worked out a few poems to read out. I have to admit that I wasn't sure how many to inflict upon the poor unsuspecting fools - I mean of course the discerning audience. In the end i settled on taking 15 with me, with each under a couple of minutes I'd be able to hopefully read them wihtout causing too much boredom. In the end, Ed came with me and we met some lovely people, saw some interesting art and photography and found out that the singer that was going to attend had had to cancel due to a throat issue. So, girding my loins and ensuring that my jeans wouldn't fall down during the 'performance', I stepped onto the stage and gave my 'all'. It was great, and I really enjoyed it. More benefits were that no one left, no one fell asleep, no one threw anything and I wasn't booed off the stage! I did learn something from Ed, who although totally unprepared at the beginning of the evening (ah the resilience and adaptability of youth), managed to sort out some of his own poetry and also did a stint on the stage. I learnt something from his performance in fact. I have habitually dated, timed and recorded where the poems I write are 'born'. But although I explained one of my poems - The Falling Man - I didn't introduce the rest nor state when and where they came into being. I think it was partly nerves, partly lack of confidence and partly poor 'stagecraft'. If I do it again, I'll know what to do differently, that's for sure. And if that was not enough; another amazing thing happened; young Abbey P asked me if I'd be interested in running a Poetry Workshop in Southend for the Creative Eye's November gathering! how amazing is that! Seems like I'm still managing to fool some of the people some of the time! Below are just a few photos of the evening, to find more, find the Creative Eye's web presence. Go on, it'll be fun! Stay safe all, keep reading! It's a fitting title, this one. For you see, on the 30th September 2019, myself and my music partner Keith 'Music Man' Melhuish went 'into the Studio' as they say to lay down some tracks (man).
Lisa, for Christmas 2018, had an inspired idea to purchase me 8 hours of studio time in a proper recording studio in Wembley, north London. This place is called 'Rogue Studios' and our engineer was the dashing (and far too young) Michael Kew. We had spent a couple of rehearsals going over 8 acoustic songs that we hoped to record in a stripped back session - just guitar and voice. Keith took his 6 and 12 string acoustic guitars (ok the 6 string does have a direct input) and I took my voice and some 'VocalZone' throat lozenges. We had spent a lot of time going through the canon of our work to find songs that were interesting, different and which would suit this acoustic process and sound. now any song can be stripped back and work to a greater or lesser extent; but we didn't want to squander this opportunity of having someone else record us whilst we concentrated on playing and singing as well as we could. Well, it was a blast! An absolute joy. It was such a delight to be in a studio with a young guy who knows his 'stuff' and who set up our session in a way that made playing together as easy as possible. I loved the time we spent in there, listening to a voice that was my own and yet better than it was normally. Whether it was the different environment, the soundproof area or the microphones - I assure you no 'Autotune' was used in the making of this music! - it sounded great. I'm always pleased when we have recorded something new and I like it at the time. But in the replaying it days or weeks after all I can hear are my mistakes. The songs we recorded are not, in any way perfect, but the mistakes are less and the overall sound is great. If you ever visit this blog then you might know of my other sites - the Photography and UnderTow ones - and visiting the UT one might be worthwhile as it will soon have news of the CD that we are going to prepare for a (hopefully) December release. My hope is that this release will be something special, something warm and accessible to the many, not the few. It has a great mix of songs, themes and sounds. Even with only either a 6 or 12 string, we have made something that I truly believe has real quality to it. I know this blog post has had little to do with my poetry or fiction, but I did write a lot of the lyrics for the songs we recorded at Rogue; so there is a link there somewhere, even if it's quite small and a bit tenuous! Stay safe all, keep reading! ... and no matter what glue I use I can't seem to repair ii.
A quick update this blog post. Firstly to let you know that my search for Ms Parr is at an end! Yes, she finally read her emails and responded! I was able to send her two copies of my book for her perusal and review. I know the books got to her safely, but I've heard nothing back so whether that means she doesn't like the book, what I've done with her poem or both, I'm not sure. BUT, at least I achieved my goal of sending her the copies I wanted too. Secondly, I want to mark the passing of an ex-colleague. I heard yesterday that a 'hero' of mine, someone who I looked up to and respected in the early years of my policing career, died earlier this week. Merfyn Davies was a professional, thoughtful, calm and considered man with a lovely sense of humour and a great manner about him when speaking to the public. I joined his 'team' (called a 'Relief' at that time in the 1980's, though little relief was encountered by anyone) and immediately saw that he was someone to respect and learn from. Someone to study in a general way and to learn how he did the job his way and pick up hints and tips to factor into my own personality (such as it is) and policing approach. Today it would be referred too as looking at 'Best Practice'; at the time it was simply finding someone you could trust and value and learn from them. When Merf retired from the Police he left these shores to live in Canada with his partner and, as we were not close friends, we lost touch. I rediscovered him on Facebook (as you do) and lurked around his pages watching his life and family from afar. To hear of his untimely death from a serious illness was (as is so often the case) shocking and very sad. Like many people, it led me to regret never really telling him of my high regard and how much I'd learnt from him. Thus, forgive me for my sad meanderings here. I hope that he is now out of any pain he endured in the final stages of life and that his family know how much he was loved and respected by those who knew and worked with him. I wish every blessing to those he leaves behind. Take Care Merf, and thanks for everything. Well here's some news; in case anyone wanted to buy something from my website - I have setup a 'PayPal Me' account which means I can take direct payments for anything in my shop!
Now, I'm glad that I tend to generate 100 unique visits per week; that's great it really is. But I need to turn some of these visits into sales - and I've no idea how to do that. I think I'm reasonably good at writing the books, creating the look and 'feel' of them and even taking the photos and designing the cover etc. but I'm not so very good at marketing them once they have been written. So if you have any ideas of how I could achieve some sales, then please let me know! And just in case you think you'd like to buy a book or two - here's where you can send money too: paypal.me/AMitchell939 And remember that my latest book is OUT NOW! Thanks for visiting my site, stay safe and keep reading... Alan Now this is a short blog post and I only put it 'out there' as I must confess to being a bit worried. You see, last year when in Lincolnshire; we met a young girl who was a waitress and was so lovely I gave her a copy of my (then) current Poetry Book as a Thank You (I've checked and it's not against the Geneva Convention). We also left a tip, which I know was far more preferable for her or any person in the hospitality trade I'm sure.
She was so sweet, she sent me a thank you and a poem of her own, which she subsequently gracefully allowed to be included in my (now) current book of poetry - 'Voices in the Wild'. Before it came out, I sent her an email offering her a signed copy (or two) as a Thank You for her poem. But I did not hear anything from her. I sent a follow up email a week or so ago, and sadly I've still not heard from her. If she doesn't want a copy (it might have been me offering to sign it that convinced her against it) that's fine; but I'd just like to make sure that everything is ok with her. So, in the unlikely event that you know her (Miss O Parr of Lincolnshire), drop me a line to assuage my fears? Thanks - I don't expect this to 'work' but it's the last thing I can think of that's not too intrusive. Take care all... Alan Yes it is true, my latest collection of poetry, my SEVENTH, is released TODAY! You can find details of it on the NEWS page, but I just want to record it here.
I'm so happy that it has made it to print, that the hard work of 2018 has been worth it, and that I am finally 'free' of it! Don't get me wrong - I love the writing, the inspiration that strikes at odd times, the way that a simple look at something, or an odd phrase that will stick with me; will create the 'Goldilocks' event. A moment when the conditions are right for me to write a poem. It's a glorious time, a few moments where I slip from the everyday world that a human being normally inhabits and becomes something different. Something - other. For the time it takes me to create the poem, to make that which I see inside me finally outside and free, it is a wonderful event, experience, emotion. But once the initial creativity has passed, there is the start of the 'work' to turn it into something that I can then turn into a book suitable to purchase (oh if only someone would!). The creative work that goes into making the individual poems into a book full of them is something I do enjoy, really. But it is much harder than writing them in the first place! Anyway, 'Voices in the Wild' is now 'born' and out in the world in print, the digital version should be ready in March and I'm already working on my newest collection of poems - 'Distant Echoes' Thanks for visiting my site, my blog and taking the time to read this short missive. If you choose to buy a book then I hope you'll enjoy the contents and will feel it money well spent! Again, thanks for reading, stay safe and every blessing. Alan [FURTHER EDIT: Funnily enough, I briefly met a Freelance Marketing Consultant at the 'Eventim Apollo' when out with Ed on Friday (1st Feb) evening for my 2018 Christmas present - attending the only 'Death Cab for Cutie' gig in London this year. I didn't get any tips from that delightful Lady; but it did get me thinking about what I should start to do with all these books I write and get printed. Now I wonder if there are any Marketing Courses out there for someone like me...] Yes it seems correct, this really IS January 2019!
I know that I have been very poor at keeping this site up to date as most of my online work has been in updating and refining my photography site. For that I can only offer my sincerest apologies. This is due to the three courses I've taken via Adult Learning recently. All three have been around Photography and Photoshop. First I took an NCFE Level 1 course in Photography and Photoshop, then I took an Advanced Photoshop course and now I'm on my second (and final) NCFE photography course - this one being a Level II course in 'Photography - Creative Craft'. I'm learning a lot and enjoying the course immensely; I have always enjoyed the acquisition of knowledge, and when I have a love of the subject this pleasure is only enhanced. And I do love photography! But all the work I've put into the courses have, by their very nature, kept me from my first true creative love - my books. I have taken these courses to improve my book covers and content, but writing fiction and poetry was for too long ignored. For a lot of my police career I left it, abandoned it, ignored it. I felt I was unable to pursue the creative world when dealing with the experiences I had as an officer. Of course, I was significantly and spectacularly wrong in this assertion. My creative side would have helped, would have offered some respite or insight into my inner thoughts and feelings. After all, as a young, and undiagnosed Autistic lad from Kent in the early 1970's; it's why I started to write in the first place - to help me cope. My poetry and fiction of that time is obvious in this regard (it might be obvious in other regards too but I'm not here looking at that aspect of it!). My younger self shouts out to the older me of the deep and abiding confusion I had at the world I could barely comprehend. Others seem to fit in, to find their place, to make and keep friends with a casualness I still find breathtaking. My constant (even now) feelings of being outside of everything and looking in found me striving for a coping mechanism that would work. Something I could at least rely on to be constant, soothing, safe. A piece of paper and a pencil are mere steps from drawing on a cave wall with charcoal from a fire; yet they were of significant help to me. They were, and are, of the utmost importance. The method may have changed, I am living in the 21st Century after all. Thus pencil and paper are mainly supplanted by iPhone 8+, my thumbs, a screen and the Notes app. I tend to write my poetry when waiting for Laura on the afternoon school run. It's a particularly fecund time for me; the experiences of the day thus far have had time to sink in and I often see things that spark a phrase, a line and once I have that; the poem will demand to be written and will brook no argument. Sitting in my car, with the silent village around me, I can work on the poem and try to reveal that kernel of motivation, that spark of insight, that made me want to record my thoughts on that day at that time and in that place. Fiction? Well, fiction is different. A PC, two screens, music (Tiger Moth Tales and Death Cab for Cutie are apparently favourite at this time) and a muse; the story name or idea in my mind. I sit, I open up the relevant folder, find the relevant file and start the relevant app (Word mostly). Then, lost inside my head and only connected to the outside world via my keyboard, eyes and ears, I settle down to write. Thus far I've not had 'writers block' - maybe as you all suspected it means I'm not really a writer - as I can always find words to spin and dance and make patterns in my mind. That bit is the easy part. It is the polishing, the reviewing, the re-writing without turning it into something 'other' than the original that I find difficult; as well as finding the time to do these necessary tasks. I suppose it's why I find poetry so appealing. My sense of recording the ever-present now, to capture it as if in amber, this has always had a great draw for me. To record my thoughts and feelings on a specific day and time in a specific place is simply amazing. It gives me insight into my inner thoughts, my responses to things I have seen, done or experienced. Each poem is a tiny story; a thumbnail sketch of characters and events that only take a moment or two to write or to read. Yet they take a lifetime to reveal. I love the sense of release I have when I have finished a poem. For that fleeting moment it is the best thing I have ever written, perfect, fully formed, satisfying. By the time I return to it to put it into a book - as I am doing now with my latest collection of 2018 - it is pale and muted when compared to the vivid and glorious colours I saw in my head. Thus, the need to continue, the desire to understand a world I have no hope of truly being a part of, this all imperils me yet requires that I continue. The pursuit of the perfect poem is one destined to continually fail. Yet in the failure, something of value may be created. I try to see the world in my own way and convey what I see and feel in ways pleasing and valid. Whether they are or no is not, I suppose, for me to conclude. That I try is my task, that I provide my thoughts in ways easy to access and review is of great importance. And that I leave something of myself behind for my children is an overarching desire. Once this final photographic course is at an end, I'll have more time to devote to my written output. So steel yourselves people, there are poems as yet unwritten, characters as yet unrevealed, places and spaces as yet undiscovered. And I intend to pursue them all .... Stay safe and keep reading. Alan I've already updated my photography website with this news, but as it also impacts upon my written work I thought I'd mention it here in my blog. What is it? Well, I've started a new academic course in photography; this is a Level II course that has practical photography as well as Photoshop elements, and I'm hoping that it will enhance my book covers - at least, that is the idea!
My collection of 2018 continues to take shape and I'm hoping to recommence work on my Short Story collection by the end of this month also. In other news, Keith and I had a great time at The Royal Albert Hall on Monday (17th) when we saw the amazing Camel in concert on the last night of their 'Moonmadness' Tour. It was great to spend time with Keith on the day, at the concert and then for a few hours on Tuesday when we recorded 3 new songs for our 'UnderTow' project! It is odd really, for several weeks over the summer holidays I was a bit fallow; not really able to work on any creative work and then in one week I update my 2018 poetry collection, work on some new music with Keith, think about the fiction I should be working on and start a new course! I am so lucky to have the opportunity to follow my various 'dreams' and I am well aware that not everyone can retire when I did or follow their creative sides when they do. So, hopefully next week I'll reconnect with at least one of my friends who I missed during the summer hiatus, work on my short story book and then go to the first proper session of my new course. Wish me luck! Stay safe and keep reading all... ARC Going abroad is a privilege that is all too easy to take for granted. During the summer holidays we are lucky enough to be able to go to new places as well as 'old' ones we have visited before.
This year it's Cyprus and as is often the case we are away for Lisa's birthday. It is so hot in Cyprus that even though I'd love to go to the (Cypriot) 'Valley of the Kings'; its just too darn hot! The six week summer holidays is not a creatively successful time for me due to basically a lack of time; but whilst on holiday I often find a couple of poems threading through my head. The work on 'Voices in the Wild' is ongoing but at the moment I'm aware that there is not a surfeit of poems (at only around 50 currently) and it does start making me concerned that I'm running out of ideas! September is not too far away and there are enough months still left in the year for this collection to have poems for every person to enjoy at least one or two! Please don't think that I'm a 'stack 'em high and sell 'em cheap' kind of creative; I'm not. I'd always try to produce works that are of a reasonable quality, or at least the best I am able too at any one time, I strive to connect with and record a 'decisive moment' every time I put finger to screen; it is just that at almost three quarters of the way through the year an artist (if I might be so bold) would like to feel that anyone purchasing a collection of his would feel that it was money well spent and contained works that had some value. Connecting with an audience would be great and I am acutely aware that I need to do something with my growing library of books that I have published. I have a full selection of my books in print and I need to find a few places where I can start selling them. So if you know of a place or two that might be willing to take my work, please let me know. Until the next time, keep safe and keep reading... ARC For the last few weeks the UK has been basking in a heatwave that threatens to equal that of the famous one of 1976. With temperatures reaching the mid-30's, it's an ongoing 'treat' to have a summer that is actually hot!
It makes working on a computer a little daunting and so things on my projects have slowed a little. Add to the heat the fact that my daughter has now finished year 4 and has a few weeks off before year 5 plus we have recently had a small pool put in the garden and the fact that things have slowed down becomes - for me at least - understandable. But I'm still working on the 2018 Poetry Collection (Voices in the Wild) and trying to make headway on the short-story collection aimed at the older reader; which I'm hoping to have it finished in late September or early October. So, try to keep cool, keep safe and keep reading .... So halfway through the year and I've not achieved everything I wanted too by now - but I am sanguine about it at this precise moment!
Keith came down for an overnight visit earlier this month and we had a very productive time; two completely new songs written and recorded, plus an earlier one revisited and re-recorded to add a 'better' vocal track. We also listened to the latest (and greatest) version of 'Nomor & I' and all in all it was a very productive and enjoyable time. I even got to grips with my new soundcraft Mixing Console; so that was an added bonus. The 10 weeks of my Advanced Photoshop course end tomorrow, I'm finishing up a 'Business' FaceBook page for arcmwriting and I am slowly getting to grips with turning 'Moments in Time' from a paperback into an eBook. Like a lot of things do, it has taken me a little longer than I would have wished; but it will be in the Kindle Store as soon as I can get it there. I'm still working on the 'Past Horrors' book of two short stories and have made good progress with that so I am hopeful that this will be ready for print soon. I've also approached Mr Jim Gallie of Battlesbridge Antiques Centre in regards to the potential use of some space in his amazing location - which has appeared on BBC no less - to possibly sell some of my work. As soon as I can get some time to pop over to see him I am hopeful that he will be amenable to having some of my books on sale somewhere or other! What else? Ah yes, The Maldon Camera Crew - an ad hoc group of disparate photographers who meet every once in a while to mull over photos we have taken (whilst often mulling over a lovely breakfast kindly provided by Pip Griffiths) and set ourselves a task for the following month (this month it is 'Nature' - goodness!). Our Flickr page will be going live soon and I'll announce it here and/or on my photography website in due course. Anything else? Why yes - I'm also proof reading Edwards first draft of a novel that he is currently writing. The working title is 'Infinity One - The Escape' and i have to say; it is a really good read! I'm acting as an interim editor; reviewing the overall shape of the piece as well as the spelling and grammatical issues (he does like to liberally sprinkle commas around everywhere) that can often arise when you are busy writing and creating and don't have time to stop and 'polish' what has been written. It's an enjoyable but fairly tiring pursuit as you have to pay attention in ways you don't when you read something as a consumer. That it? Phew! So, thanks for popping by and I hope you don't feel it was a waste of your time or energy. more project news and updates next time; when I'll be another year older, if i'm spared... Keep safe and keep reading... So what news on this very (very) short story I hear no one ask? Well I have to say that my long term music partner Keith Melhuish shocked, surprised and provided me with great joy when he tentatively sent me a musical 'treatment' of 'Nomor & I'.
Being both Jeff Wayne and Sir Richard Burton he came up with some music for the story and wanted to try some narration over the top of it. Now it's not easy to get the balance correct between having music that moves and connects with an audience whilst at the same time not being too intrusive to the story (which is the focus of the piece). But once again, Keith has done it. It has gone through a few iterations - plus a small re-write or two of the story itself - but he has done an incredible job and when he visits overnight next month we can review it whilst in the same room for once! On another topic; the Advanced course is going well and I'm learning a lot of things I never knew, plus discovering other things in more depth. I am certain that it will help with my camera work overall and my post-production specifically. Elsewhere, I'm still working on my other projects whilst looking around for an outlet or two where I can sell my books to the unknown public. So if you have any ideas - let me know! In the meantime, stay safe and keep reading... |
Alan Mitchell57 years old, retired and lives in Essex, He loves the process involved in creating poetry and prose and music... as well as taking the odd photograph (and some really are odd)... Archives
May 2023
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