January 7th 2016 and a day to reflect
It is hard to believe that a year ago today, we finally said farewell to Mum at the great
age of 94. It was a day when we felt nothing else would seem appropriate, other than
a quiet, family service with a few friends and some suitable words from the reader of
Springfield Church. Just as we were about to leave for the crematorium, news broke
of a shooting at the offices of Charlie Hebdo magazine in Paris. Within minutes, the
true horror of what had been experienced by the terrified staff began to make itself
plain to the waiting world. My feelings were thrown into disarray and I tried to make
some sense of it all, putting personal grief into one place and empathetic shock into
another. Soon, the car arrived and the day we had planned took over once more. Out
of respect for me, I would imagine, no-one mentioned Paris, yet I am sure it was on our
minds. We had, what Mum would have no doubt described, a ‘lovely’ day. Photos of
the Wharam family from the 1920s to 2014 were displayed on a large TV screen at the
wake and it was so nice to hear people’s comments and laughter, for laughter was
something Mum always loved to hear, especially if it came from the lips of her family. We
drank champagne, her favourite tipple and toasted her many, many times during the ensuing hours.
The following day, we began to return to normality and I began the task of arranging for
Dad’s headstone in Dartmouth to be amended to include Mum. We spent a bittersweet
few days in that heavenly town in October and scattered Mum’s ashes on what would
have been her 95th birthday, in the sea just by St Petrox church at the mouth of the River Dart.
================================================================
March 7th 2015 and a visit to ISIS
This headline might possibly bring about some unwanted views, but perhaps its intrinsic ‘appeal’ to the curious may work.
Lyn and I spent the evening at HMP YOI Isis, part of the Belmarsh complex in south-east London. Not a place one would relish going to, as a visitor, educator or prisoner. Built in 2010, it houses men between the ages of 18 and 30 who have been sent to prison often as a last resort and was built to Category ‘B’ standards, which means that it has quite high security for longer term inmates. I hesitate to use the word, ‘offender’, as I feel it is a term used far too frequently by the establishment, often erroneously.
For me, initially, it was about going back to prison, this time as a visitor. Yes, going beyond the visits hall and into the jail dressed in civvies and knowing I would be able to walk out later felt very strange, almost unnerving, yet the staff made the ingress as easy as possible. The Pimlico Opera company, a truly great bunch of individuals who put on shows in UK prisons had taken on the task of producing a new version of Our House, a light opera inspired and written by Madness, featuring songs from the truly brilliant back catalogue of same. The prison gym had been transformed into a theatre, complete with full lighting rig, sound system, tiered seating and interactive stage. I had taken the opportunity to read a critique of ‘Our House at Isis’ by Musical Theatre Review, so kind of knew what was coming our way. However, as the production was on its final night last night, I felt that a more generous appraisal would be appropriate.
Led by Tom Child and Jocasta Almgill as Joe Casey and Sarah, his girlfriend, the cast featured Suggs McPherson as Joe’s dad and Victoria Ward as his long-suffering and loving mum. As a Madness fan, the music was, for me, going to be a big part of the evening and it did not disappoint. To say at this stage that the production was professionally run from start to finish wouldn’t even do it justice. It carried weight, gravitas, emotion and passion, which brings me to the best part of the whole evening, the supporting cast. Twenty-four inmates of HMP Isis played their roles extremely well and whilst I would hesitate to single anyone out, I found Ray C as Reecey to be highly convincing. Let’s watch out for him in the future as his previous time spent studying performance arts at Kingsway College doesn’t seem to have been wasted at all. Great stuff. Other notable performances were Hakeem J as the hapless and ultimately ‘unsuccessful with girls’ Lewis and Jordan H as Emmo. Their interviews in the programme show them as self-effacing and displaying an honesty rarely found amongst the young. I also enjoyed the performance of Callum, played by Jordan D, an inmate who on his own admission speaks mainly Patois but managed his role very well. The supporting professionals from Pimlico Opera were highly entertaining, especially in the song and dance routines which were superbly choreographed by Chantry Dance Company.
So, a two hour light opera. In a prison. On a Friday night. Was it worth it? You bet it was. This is rehabilitation working at its best. Among those in the audience were the Chief Inspector of Prisons, Nick Hardwick-a man who in this writer’s opinion will be sorely missed by those wishing to improve conditions in Britain’s prisons, James Timpson of Timpsons-a company which has chosen to employ ex-prisoners in the workplace and many others who believe passionately in the right way to help the incarcerated.
We need a lot more of this.
After seven long years of writing, not writing, research and despair, I am delighted to confirm that my second novel, ‘Right to Live‘, has been published this morning on Kindle.
I have often agonised over my belief in the legitimacy of this work, but have been bolstered up and reassured by many good friends and confidantes that I should go ahead and do it. To write about the Holocaust is indeed a challenging task and to write a novel seems in some ways even more of an ordeal that to write about it from a historical, academic point of view. I hope that readers will understand my reasons for continuing with the project and will see it for what it is: a story.
If you do decide to read the book, I would be grateful for honest, forthright reviews on any of the review sites. If you like the book, tell your friends. If you don’t, please tell me.