So I'm there

So I'm there, charging around with a juggernaut brow. The whole day I've been rushing, what can be the perfect antidote for a relaxed evening's entertainment?

That's right, Elbow. On entering the 02 Arena you can feel the anticipation. You're met by the dangling lights and pictures of the five piece band behind the stage. There is not a centimetre of available floor space that I can see. Seated and with my neck craned slightly to the left in the lower tier (Row V), I am with my Old Man and my L'il Sis. The demographic is mixed, old and young alike are fans, "Everyone's here".

Magically the band leaves the pictures and enters the stage to rapturous applause. They kick off with Birds, the first song on the new album, and with a fabulous walking beat throughout that has you hooked. Even my Dad (who only knows the hits!) is tapping along. The sound is superb.

We are truly off and running, Lippy Kids is marvellous. "We shouldn't be afraid of our young, we should nurture them" states Garvey as an intro, almost as if delivering a sermon. Typically, the audience cheers!

The Bones of You instantly reminds me of my Mum, so I'm holding back tears as Guy swoons through the lyrics, some are so poignant and close to home that often you are transfixed on Guy's stance, especially during the slower tracks like Mirrorball. He rocks backward and forward like a darts player, delivering the words.

A special nod must go to Garvey's crowd interaction. He is so warm towards the audience, and you can tell he absolutely revels in it. He constantly shifts his position and must have shaken every hand surrounding the smaller stage. Guy thanked Block 142 Row U for their support, the furthest people away in the venue. A standing ovation for them from the crowd followed. Also, his relationship with the other members means that you almost want to be in Elbow. I've never been to a concert where the band treats themselves to a half-time gig cocktail either.

Great Expectations, Grounds For Divorce and the beautiful Tower Crane Driver step the gig up into overdrive. My Sis turns and nods at me knowing this is our favourite Elbow song. I have goosebumps as Guy wails "Send up a prayer in my name.." with the terrific key change.

They do the intimate songs well. This is a massive arena, but they still manage to pull it off. The Night Will Always Win, with the four band members huddled over four keyboards and Guy singing is so haunting. You contrast that to the smashing, jangling Neat Little Rows and you'd be forgiven if you thought a different band had walked on stage. My Dad tapped along as a vast rate of knots for that one! They bow out once with Open Arms, then the inevitable encore One Day Like This concludes the show. A glorious finale.

That sums Elbow up for me, just like the body part it's just out of reach to actually define. Some of their songs are anthemic, some are joyous, some are melancholy, some you can join in with, some are slightly odd, some are beautiful. What is certainly true is that all songs are highly addictive.

Then again, I might be slightly biased!

Show some emotion

So yes, I'm, er.. how can I put this without sounding all too sad? I'm missing my Mum.

I'm not the best at conveying my emotions and I tend to be quite reserved in my opinions. One of my Twitter pals encouraged me to "chuck out my chintz"; so that's what I'm doing.

My Mum. She's in my head, my heart and my soul, but she's just not there any more. In front of me. I feel empty without her. This feeling of emptiness and numbness has been explained to me as grief.

I am a Mummy's Boy you see. I was so fond of her ways and loved her to bits. We got on like a house of fire and really she was my best friend. We still lived together under the same roof when she passed so I saw her every day for 22 years before she took to the skies.

The moment those curtains closed at the funeral, I was at a loss. She was no longer a name in my birthday card, and there was suddenly an empty place at the dinner table. Her mobile number in my mobile phone book was redundant (I called it plenty of times after, just to hear her voice on the Answer Message). Our house phone stopped ringing. My Dad, Sis and I realised that the only people who rang the house phone wanted to speak to our Mum. Letters continued to hit our doormat addressed to Mrs Fox. When the Funeral was over, and you try to resume normal life, is when the loss and the grief hits you most.

This is the hurdle I've found most tricky. Life has a massive Mum shaped hole in it. When I finish work there's one less person to ask me how my day has gone. She always seemed interested in what I had to say, so I used to tell her all my secrets. I bottle them all up now.

Since she's gone I've massively lost my confidence, and now I don't say boo to a goose. I want to emulate my Mum's 'joie de vivre' but at times I'm still a little jaded and low. I hope that I can get a bit of good news from somewhere which will boost my self-esteem.

I still live at home with Dad and Sis but our house feels different now. Its a shrine to my Mum; her pictures and mementos are everywhere. I don't know if this is any good for me to see these day in and day out.

Before my Mum got ill I was seriously looking at moving out to my own place. When my Mum was diagnosed everything was paused. Now that the trauma is over and my Mum's in a better place I have pressed play again on my life, but currently life seems like its just creaking along. Its been eighteen months since she passed but it feels just like yesterday. I'm doing a lot of reminiscing about the past, but I don't know whether that's because I'm reminded all the time. I think I need to get on with that plan to move out.

I must point out that I do have good days too, and I'm relatively happy in general. Its just at certain times I feel at loss. I have been going to counselling sessions, and must admit that it helps as the woman who I talk to does not judge me at all.

She has pointed out that I should cry. I'm not really a crier, but I have cried a few times in the last eighteen months. At these sad moments I can't really turn to my friends and tell them how sad I feel, or at work, because I don't want to be a burden to anyone. I don't do feelings with my Dad, and my Sister is often wrapped up away with her boyfriend. The only people who I can talk openly too is my lovely Nan and my Aunt (my Mum's sister), who I rarely see. So at times the only person I talk to is myself!

I see things which make me upset; even watching the lambs and sheep in the field was sad. The baby lamb was sheltered, safe and tucked in next to its Mummy, and I recognised that that was what I missed. I ended up crying at some sheep for goodness sake!

The Kate Bush song "Wow" also caught me unaware (one of Mum's favourite records) and I burst into tears the other week.

So, yes. That's my grief that I'm currently dealing with. I've probably said way too much however I felt I needed to write this down. In truth, the reason I've probably wrote this is because I've actually had a few days off over Easter with nothing to do. Keeping myself busy is good, but I think subconsciously I did keep myself busy on purpose to avoid thinking about the past.

If you read this and you can relate to what I've said, do get in touch. It would be nice to know if there are others who have felt or are feeling the same. Is it OK to cry at sheep?! I just hope at some point soon I can move on, things will get better, right?

Have a happy Easter, and make sure you speak to your loved ones during this time. Life is too short for squabbles and arguments; slow down and take stock of what's good in your life. The good I have learnt through what's happened is that I realise how much I love the people in my life and my family (past and present).

Rich. x

ps. I think I chucked out a lot of chintz here!

pps. You can probably tell I'm still talking to myself!

Talking

Good evening,

I am going to write about talking. Something which I am not that good at. I'm more of a listener. I can talk, but most of the time it is just waffle I'm afraid.

See, I reckon there is a technique to talking. The technique is to slow down. I've tried it, and it helps massively. That millisecond that you do slow will allow you the shortest fusion in your brain, so that your mouth knows what to say next.

I am getting better. At school around about ten years ago I didn't really speak. Something happened when I went from Primary to Secondary and I completely lost all my confidence in speaking. I remember we had to present on stage something to the rest of the class. I was so nervous, and so awkward. I can't think why. I'm sure it was just nerves so that I didn't make a fool out of myself. I remember all eyes dawning upon me, and I was a goner.

Thing is, I've learned to deal with that now. I've presented things at work to many people, everyone from a class of 9 years old's to Gordon Brown! I didn't get that nervous then. I suppose it was due to my hormones being in a juxtaposed state.

Those teenage years were spent mainly on mute. I only grunted, or made quick comments, something which enabled me to become "Wittiest Person of the Year" in the sixth form awards. I must have been doing something right. I actually remember my English teacher Miss N (not going to say her name) turning to the person next to her and whispering "How has he won that?" Yes Miss, I did hear you. I just didn't speak up in class much.

Really though, I'm happy. I've managed to keep playing football at a fantastic level, and the next two years of my life could be my finest yet. All I've got to do is speak coherantly and slowly and then everyone will understand me.

If it don't work I'll still be around, just listening in on your conversation!

Comprende?

Compassion for customer

So there I was, at work, whiling away the time.

The phone rings and I answer. It's a woman from one of the banks which our helpdesk looks after. She's having trouble connecting remotely from her home. This is a common phone call that I get from a variety of customers.

The call starts by me explaining how I'm going to help. I ask for the keyfob serial number, which allows me to look up her details. She says she's been off on long term sick, part of me wants to ask why, but I know it's not my business. She's forgotten her username to log in. I know exactly what the problem is straight away when I look this up, and duly tell her to put in a different username. This allows her to connect fine and she's able to log on.

While she's checking her side to make sure she's connected we start some small talk, which goes a little beyond the basic weather conversation. She explains that she has been retraining for new processes in the company as she has been off. She expands on this to say that the reason she has been off on sick leave for 6 months is to care for her husband, who has cancer. I immediately draw in my breath and the memories that I have of this exact situation with my Mum come flooding back. "...And it's terminal", she continues. "I'm so sorry to hear that", I can only reply. Once it was the opposite way around when people replied to me like that. There is nothing else you can say.

She explains about getting her husband into a care home, a task I remember so vividly with my Mum. I expand on my Sorry by explaining, "I went through the same thing.." I am a complete mess of emotions at this point, part of me wants to cry, part of me wants to hug this woman and say everything's going to be OK and part of me wants to kick that bastard cancer illness into touch once and for all and stop hurting innocent people.

I really felt genuine emotion for this woman who I don't know and have never met. I didn't expand on my Mum's story too much (as that is a novel in itself) but I felt her pain. She knows the outcome it seems. When I tried to be positive; "I hope your husband gets better", she replied quite openly and in a real heartbroken manner, "he won't". I was amazed at her strength to say that. She didn't, or at least I didn't hear her voice break at all.

She did ask rhetorically at one point, "Why am I telling you all this?" I didn't need to answer, I used to talk all my feelings away to complete strangers. I know exactly how she feels, seeing someone you love so dearly taken away from you is a terrible wrench. My Mum was 46 when she died from stomach cancer. I had just turned 22. The person who guided me through childhood is no longer there, I have to guide myself now.

So, this woman, who outpoured all her story down the phone line seems an inspiration. I called her an "angel" at one point for caring so well for her husband. My Dad, who was fantastic throughout my Mum's journey/torture (depending on your optimism) has been there, done it and sold the T shirt.

I left her able to logon to work remotely, she said thanks for talking through helping her connect, and also to listen to her story. She asked for my name at the end of the call, I said "it's Richard". That made me feel quite proud and threw me completely again, no one ever asks for my name unless they think I've done a good job. "Whenever I ring your company, I always find you really helpful". "I'm doing my best" is what I could muster in reply as I said Goodbye.

Our best is all we can do. What a marvellous woman.

I had to go on a break after that call, and I fondly recalled some great moments with my Mum when I was little. To say that phone call didn't move me would be an understatement.

Would love to know how that woman and her husband fare in the future. Sadly, I may never find out. They deserve happiness, I'm sure the place that serves it is where my Mum is now. God bless you, wherever you are. x

Rich.

TV in 2010

So here's a review of TV in 2010. There's been some brilliant programs on the box over the past 12 months.

By the way, I must add that this blog has not been researched. This is all from memory. I bloody love these shows, that's why I'm writing about them.

Ashes to Ashes

A class drama about the lives of a team of Detectives based at Fenchurch East. This carried on from the previous two excellent series. Time travelling DCI Alex Drake wanted to find out the truth about DCI Gene Hunt once and for all. Much was devoted to the relationships between Drake and Hunt, and the team, namely Ray, Chris and Shaz. The twist that the five protagonists were in an intermediate state of limbo between heaven and hell was superb.

DCI Jim Keats stepped in as the voice of hell, whom Gene Hunt opposed throughout. Suddenly Hunt was transformed into an anti-Christ figure leading them to heaven (or the pub, in Hunt's case!). Brilliantly written, poignant and effective continuity, I watched the final episode twice it was that good. The link to Sam Tyler in Life on Mars again a fitting ode to a tremendous series.

Getting On

Getting On was a genuinely superb comedy. It had its twists of realism that made it close to home, but it was expertly done. The characters each had their own caviats, and the relationship between them made the program. Hilary Loftus' and Den Flickster's relationship has to be the most awkward pairing ever, but it worked a treat. Plus Kim Wilde (not the singer) was the character I associated most with because of her down-trodden image.

It was so similar to The Thick of It in style and the way it was shot, but it was my favourite comedy of the year. It just was a class above, and I had tears in my eyes at several moments throughout.

The Thick of It

Which is a nice segue into my next program of the year. The "third" series of The Thick of It was class. With Rebecca Front as Nicola Murray it invited another dimension to the show. My wasn't Murray useless at front line politics?

Tucker was as rude as ever this series, and the sacking episode was superb. "You will see me again!" He always seems to get his own way too, the various show downs with Julius Nicholson that he always seems to win. Plus, Joanna Scanlan is brilliant in this too, as she is in Getting On.

So there's three, which I could talk about until the cows come home. There was also a new series of Mad Men, the marvellous prequel Rock and Chips and the continuation of Peep Show, which will run and run.

That was the best of TV this year.