Yearly Archives: 2007

No, not like that, you dirty-minded little ratbag.  Hehe – I said ratbag.

No, swinging as in modd-swings, as in ups and downs and roundabouts – a very Miton Keynes kind of blues.

Today’s been full of it.  Every particular kind of “it” you can imagine.  Except that one.  I’ve been up, down, and all around, trying to work out what on earth my head, body, mind, brain, chest, feet and hands are up to.

I’ve decided the answer is that I don’t know.

Having spent the weekend doing nothing, following two days of doing nothing, I’m feeling somewhat bored of nothing-ness.  Today was supposed to be a better day because a) I’ve spent 4 days doing nothing, so I must have improved, even just a little and b) I actually had something to focus on – a telephone interview with David Seaman (ex of England and Arsenal) for CF Talk.

It started slowly (the day, that is, not the interview), it taking me a while to wake up, but I did get up with a good deal less pain than I’ve had for the last few days.  This morning’s discomfort was more in the line of “aches” than pains, which I attribute largely to muscular discomfort after over-compensating for the positions which caused me pain over the weekend.

After dropping K off at work, I prepared for the interview, but when I phoned, David was out (how inconsiderate).

I then sat around for the rest of the morning and I have honestly no idea what I did in the 3 hours between phoning DS and speaking to him when he phoned me back this afternoon.

I’d rather given up on the idea of speaking to him today, actually, and was hugely tired before he did call.  I toyed with the idea for a while of leaving an out-going voicemail message saying, “Hello David Seaman, thanks for calling back, I’m just having a bitof a nap at the moment, but let me know when you’re free and I’ll call you back when I wake up.”

Thought it might seem a bit odd.  Especially if the BT man rang.

Still, I managed to prise my eyes open long enough to hang on for his call.  I managed to stay awake all through the interview, too, which I took to be a good thing because I can’t help feeling it’s a little rude to nod off when talking to a celebrity over the phone.

As it happened, I’m not sure he would have minded, since he seemed like a really lovely bloke.  I managed to glean lots of interesting bits and bobs from our half-hour chat today, including the fact that he is a huge INXS fan, which I promised not o hold against him, in the same way I tried not to hold it against him that he captained the Arsenal side which beat Southampton in the 2003 FA Cup final I was in Cardiff for.

I also learnt he owns a Geri Halliwell album.  He claims it’s his wife’s.

After that, though, things seem to have gone downhill.  (In my day, not the interview, that is).

I picked K up from work and took myself off to bed, where I dozed for an hour or so, then propped myself up in bed with a cuppa to read for a while, but found myself feeling distinctly unpleasant after not too long.  This rampant see-sawing of  wellness has started to drag in the most incessant way.

I’m finding it harder and harder to stay on an even keel mentally when my body sees fit to flip-flop all over the place physically.  It’s not that I seem to be changing from day-to-day, it’s that I can change from hour-to-hour, one minute up and full of energy, ideas and get-up-and-go and the next minute with less energy than a battery-run bunny after a 10-hour run-off against the Duracell dude.

If only there was a pattern or a rhyme or reason to what was happening or when it happened, I would at least be able to square it in my head so that I was prepared for the sudden on-rush of bleakness.  But the constant swinging from state to state creates such an enormous  flux through the day that I find it impossible to anticipate and I find myself being dragged down mentally as soon as I flag physically.

I am hoping against hope that the next few days bring a renewed strength and chance to focus myself on to some of the things I really want to do, because much more of this flip-flopping, see-sawing, up-downing and I think I really might go mad.

Either that or I’ll find myself watching day-time TV, which is the same thing, really.

I still can’t move, but on the plus side, we have nice new bookcases in our study, which means the floor no longer resembles a preparation area for Fahrenheit 451.

Ever since we created our new study out of K’s old bedroom in the flat, we’ve had a desk and filing cabinet, but no where near enough shelf space to collect together the frankly bonkers number of books we both own.

But now, thanks to a mercy visit by both sets of parents, we have two gloriously beaming new bookcases which not only hold all of our current collection, but also have enough room for us to “grow into” – for the next six months or so, at least…

I was entirely useless at helping put them up, though, as I’m still pretty much immobile with whatever this virus is I’ve picked up.  For variety, the pain today has focused itself mainly in my neck, making me unable to glance sideways at people in that wonderfully comical manor which I so enjoy.

Not only that, but it’s meant that every time someone sitting next to me asks me a question, I answer them with a half-hearted wince as I momentarily forget my aches and turn quickly to answer them, only to be reminded instantly that turning my head 90 degrees is exactly the one movement that I’m incapable of today.

Still, at least I’ve not lost my sense of humour. (At this point I’ll gladly thank my parents, K and her parents for not correcting me in a comment below).

Generally, today (and yesterday) have been pretty rubbish.  Not only have I been in near constant pain – or at least major discomfort – but I’ve also had to miss out on a really good friend’s birthday celebrations and also to sit idly by and not be able to help put together things to go in my own flat.  Not a highlight of my year so far, I have to say.

I’m trying incredibly hard, however, not to let it drag me down, although to be honest it’s starting to.  I’m not ill, so I can’t complain really, but I do’nt feel well enough to really “do” anything, which is unbelieveably frustrating.

It’s so hard to define what’s going on with my body, or my head, at the moment and it’s really rubbing me up the wrong way.  All I can hope is that another day or two of rest will be enough to drag me out of it and that as my physicality improves, so will my mood.

If not, heaven help poor K as she’s had to put up with enough of a mono-syllabic, sour-faced, misery-guts of a boyfriend for the best part of half a week now.  Please God I get better soon, for her sake if no one else’s.

There was me thinking I’d got thing under control after my weekend dip and I manage to get myself laid low with a virus.  Not a regular, all-singing, all-dancing kinda virus, mind, but a really pathetic, weedy one which is just enough to prevent me doing what I want to do without making me feel REALLY ill.

The last few days I’ve been struggling with a bit of low energy and this morning I woke up feeling very lethargic, but also with all sorts of aches and pains all over my body.  My lower back was hurting, and I felt like I’d pulled the muscles in my groin (which I think is pretty much impossible when you’re asleep).

Added to that, when I got up I had aches through my knee joints and around my shoulders and pains in my hands and fingers.  Chest-wise, I feel fine – no better or worse than usual, but I just can’t seem to do anything that involves moving without either wincing or nearly losing my balance.

After talking to a few people from the CF Trust message boards, it seems that it’s just a virus that’s going around, which should wear off in a few days with some decent rest, but it’s no less annoying for it.  The best news, really, is that it doesn’t seem to have done any harm to anyone’s chest, or caused infections or anything, which is a definite plus.

So it’s a few days in bed/on the sofa for me, which I’m going to find exceedingly annoy because – as you’ll have seen from my last post – I’ve got a whole load of things that I really want to be getting on with.

Ah well, the sensible, mature me will have to take charge and remind myself that having projects is all well and good but if I don’t keep myself well enough to enjoy them, what’s the point?

Send me get-well vibes!

On top of the new play, there are more things bubbling along in the Oli-melting pot at the moment, all grabbing my attention here, there and everywhere – that’s how I love it, though.

First off, and most importantly, there’s the Activ8 Youth Theatre show at Milton Keynes Theatre, which is coming up on April 22nd and is coming together really nicely in rehearsals at the moment. We’re currently chatting about marketing strategies and getting all the info on the show out to a wider audience than would normally support a Youth Theatre show, mostly because a) the kids and young people taking part really deserve a full house to show what they’ve achieved and b) it’s all in aid of the CF Trust.

So if you’ve nothing in your diary for April 22nd, click here NOW and book your tickets to come and see the show. It’s going to be a knock-out and the earlier you book, the better seats you’ll get, because they’re all priced at a fiver – that’s cheaper than a night at the cinema!

Beyond April, the LLTGL team have a couple of projects we’re starting to look at, including looking ahead to a repeat of Laughter for Life next March, following the immense success of this year’s show.

We’re also looking at the possibility of organising some kind of a rally – maybe in super-cheap cars – which would take place in early autumn and involve a jaunt around the British Isles in some form or other. And, naturally, would end in a nice big party when you reach the finish.

There’s lots of good ideas bouncing about and I think it’s something we’re going to pursue soon, but it’s just a case of nailing down the format and looking at logistics and things like that.

Keep your eyes peeled for more info as and when.

On top of all of that, I’ve got the new issue of CF Talk to turn around and get off to the designers so we can get it out at leat vaguely in the right timescale. OK, so it’s still going to be as late as ever, but I promise it’s going to be good.

If you’re not already on the mailing list to receive CF Talk and you’d like to (it’s free, from the CF Trust) just email here with your name and full address and we’ll make sure you get a copy.

So just a few bits and bobs going on for the moment – nothing too drastic.

Oh, and I also received an email from Bill Bryson yesterday, letting me know how hugely successfully the organ donor campaign has been going at Durham University, where he is currently chancellor. Not only that, but that he was taking the campaign idea to chancellors of all the other uni’s today to see if we can’t take it nationwide.

I met Bill around this time last year at the CF Trust’s Breathing Life Awards and immediately hi-jacked him for an interview with CF Talk at some point later in the year. Sure enough, he obliged only to happily and our brief 15-20 minute phone chat turned into nearly an hour.

In the middle of the call, while I was supposed to be interviewing him, I mentioned the fact that I was waiting for a transplant (it was actually in the context of a question about holiday destinations) and he turned the interview around and positively grilled me (in the nicest possible way) about transplants, the organ donor register and the problems that we have with donation in this country.

From then on, things seemed to take a life of their own and it only seemed that a light jogging was needed from Bill to his students for them to shoot off and go crazy with the idea – running off T-shirts and organising the campaign with amazing professionalism, it would seem.

Apparently, although I’ve yet to see the “merchandise”, it all centres around the hook, “My friend Oli…”. Being the naturally shy, introverted type that I am, I obviously feel very uncomfortable about all of this, and the prospect of yet more attention being focused not only on Transplant, but on me personally. However, sometimes in life you have to make personal sacrifices for a greater cause, and I feel that this is one of those times.

I mean, come on, a campaign named after me!?! Pretty soon it won’t be lack of portable oxygen keeping me in the house, it’ll be a head too big to go through the door….

All those of you who visit and read me avidly (or just slightly bored-ly) and long to pass on my blog address to others to entertain, or bore stupid, but have trouble remembering the site address – REJOICE!!

For the benveolent Family Matlack from Texas, with whom I managed to HUGELY over-stay my welcome in early 2004 (which is an epic tale far too long for this post) have once again come up trumps, totally out of the blue.

Clearly worried that far too many people were missing out on my myriad ramblings and mighty rants against the world/my chest/other people’s blogs/life in general, Adam – the techno-savvy gadget-freak I always wanted to be – has not only registered smilethroughit.com for me, but also done all those little bits of re-directing and stuff that I would never have known how to do.

So now you can email all your friends, update your myspace, add to your favourites and generally pass on to the world that the greatest blog in Knaresborough Court is now officially www.smilethroughit.com

Woo-hoo!! And YAY for our American cousins (when they’re not duping Tony B into war….)!!

AND I bet I still can’t beat him on the X-box….

I’m nothing if not reliable – I’m quite liking this new era of being able to work out what my body’s telling me, it’s certainly better than the confusion leading up to Christmas this year (see Nov/Dec’s posts for more) – as yesterday and today I find myself back on the wagon and with enough energy to get through the day again.

Not only that, but I’ve also found the time (and inclination) to start a new ball rolling.  Yesterday, for the first time in nearly 3 years, I think, I actually sat down and started writing a new play.  It’s only small, and not very grand, but with 8 pages down on the first day, I can really seee where it’s going, which is somethin of a rarity for me when I first start projects.

It’s actually based on a couple of ideas I’ve had for quite a while, but have only recently strung together to make a sensible whole.  The whole thing kicks off with an image/scene I’ve had in my head for ages, but not been able to find the right context to put it into.

One of my biggest problems when I start out writing is knowing where things are going to go and knowing that there is some conflict there which will drive the story/plot.  Many of my abandoned attempts at plays in the past have fallen by the wayside because nothing happened in them.  As good an ear for dialogue as I think I have, all talk and no substance doesn’t make for a very interesting play.

So I’ve kicked off the new one with a cracking first 8 pages at the first sitting and I’m hoping to keep up with around 5 pages a day in the hope of getting a first draft done by the time I go into hospital for my next planned course of IV’s at the start of April.  From there, if I like it, I’m thinking of submitting it to the Verity Bargate Award which Soho Theatre runs every year.

It’s about time I actually started to put my scripts out there and stopped sitting around at home calling myself a writer with nothing but a couple of 10-page Youth Theatre pieces to show for it.  I also plan to redraft an old script of mine which I workshopped when I was out in Texas – I’ve got reems of notes on it, but never seem to have managed to get into the groove of turning it around.

I don’t know if it’s the spring sunshine, the move away from the cold, dreary winter nights, or the knowledge after Laughter for Life that I really can achieve something if I set my mind to it, but I seem to have found not just inspiration, but motivation thrown in.

I’m all too aware of the ease with which my motivation can drop, so I’m keen to harrness it while I can.  And once I’ve built up some momentum, hopefully it’ll just keep coming.

And now I’ve blogged about it, of course, I’ll have plenty of people popping their heads in to ask how it’s going, which is only going to make me work harder, since the only other option is learning how to lie convincingly about what I’ve managed so far – and that’s just not me.

You know how sometimes you just keep rolling along, a certain sense of momentum propelling you forward regardless of how you’re actually doing?  And you know how eventually, you find time to stop, sit down, take a rest and chill out – and then you discover just how exhaisted and run-down your body really is?

Well, that’s me.

I seem to have somehow bluffed and blundered my way through the last 6 days and now I’ve reached the weekend, I’ve taken two days out to rest and supposedly recouperate, and I find myself more exhausted now than I did when I went to bed on Friday night.

It’s good to know that my chest can be relied upon to perform to it’s best at the right times, although a bit of warning of a delayed-reaction strop would have been nice, if I’m honest.

I feel somewhat aggrieved that I’ve spent my weekend doing nothing to recover and my body feels like it’s been forced to to and Iron Man and a marathon back-to-back – but I suppose that running the backstage side of a comedy night and partying thill 2 in the morning, coupled with a “normal” working week including early mornings and evenings out is pretty much my body’s equivalent to the Iron Man-Marathon combo.

The important thing is to stay on top of the treatments, make sure I’m getting my physio and nebs done and keeping the flow of calories as high as possible to make sure that exhaustion doesn’t lead to any other nastiness.  If I can’t do much but the vital things this week, it’s not the end of the world – I need to make sure I’m not trying to carry on as normal and running myself into the ground – always a danger with me, I’m aware.

So it’s early nights, lots of rest, little to do during the day and plenty of food – when I can get my appetite to play ball.  The rest of the week will have to stay on stand-by until I know that my body’s ready to come back out of its shell.

Sometimes people really make life hard for themselves – and they don’t seem to realise how much they’re contributing to it themselves.

It struck me watching the BBC’s new Fame Academy thing for Comic Relief first off. Every night they all step up into the “circle of fear” to perform slightly out-of-tune, glorified karioke versions of wel-known songs to varying degrees of success (and even I’ll admit that Ray Stubbs had me smiling tonight with his version of “Lola”). But what kind of a mind-set does it get you in to call your performance space the “circle of fear”?

If you want to ward off your nerves and give of your best, you need to be feeling positive and confident when you step up to the mic. Telling yourself you’re stepping into the worst 12 feet of space in a building is hardly gearing yourself up for success, is it?

But that’s not the thing that’s lead me to this. What’s bothered me tonight is reading another blog of a lady who says she’s “not coping” with all the things in her life.

She lists all the many things going wrong with her – some unavoidable, some unbelievably sad and some which, to me, are a matter of pure perspective.

Some people – and this isn’t aimed merely in one direction – don’t seem to know how to let things go. They like to wallow in their failures, their mistakes, their foibles and to make sure everyone else knows how much they are suffering.

You know what? We all are. We all have our own daemons, our own battles to fight, our own mountains to climb. Bad things happen – that’s a part of life.

But the measure of a man – or a woman, or a child – is whether he can take the knocks on the chin and get right back up, look life in the eye and say, “Is that all you’ve got for me?” It’s not easy, but neither is it meant to be – nor should it be. Where is the joy in victory if you’ve not had to fight to get it?

Sometimes you fight and sometimes you lose, but there’s no good to come from dwelling on your losses. That’s not to say you can’t learn from them, but you’ve got to take your lesson and move right along. A rolling stone gathers no moss, it’s said, and why open yourself up to being over-taken by weeds when you can keep on moving and break free?

Blame is the hardest thing in the world to accept, yet some people choose to heap it on themselves. Why go through life carrying a burden that you’ve given yourself? Come on, life gives us enough to carry on our own, there’s no point adding to it. Blaming yourself for things you can’t change is a surefire way to get yourself into a vicious circle of personal degradation.

I don’t mean to sound like I’m belittling people’s problems, nor do I intend to suggest that I’m forever rosey and never have my dark days – anyone reading this blog over time will know how much I’ve struggled. I merely mean to suggest that sometimes, you need to offer yourself a fresh perpective on your situation – to look at it from a different angle and see if the insurmountable is actually just really f***ing hard.

“Fate doesn’t hang on a wrong or right choice,
Fortune depends on the tone of your voice.”

It’s been a bit of a weird week this week – I appear to have been either out of the house working or running errands, or asleep.  It’s a bit all-or-nothing.

After travelling home on Monday I was shattered, but ok with a bit of an afternoon nap, then I had Tuesday morning to laze around before being on Taxi duty for K (through choice not compulsion, I must add).

Then yesterday, K started her new job (yay!), which meant I was up at 8am to get her there (boo), and then found myself coming home and passing out on the bed again till the afternoon – not intentionally, but when your body’s bossing you around after a weekend like mine, you listen.

Then last night it was back to normality with my session at MKT with the Youth Theatre.

I say “normality”, but it’s not every week that I get to spend 20 minutes shooting part of a short film with Samantha Janus just after she’s come off stage in Guys and Dolls.  Even by my celeb-bumping-into standards, this was a bit on the surreal side, my friend Helen (who’s the dep wardrobe mistress on the show) having spoken to her and got her to agree to do us a favour and pop up in cameo in our opening film for the YT show.

She was lovely, and very accomodating, especially since we literally accosted her straight off stage, at a time when I would imagine most performers just want to be left alone to veg out – especially with another show starting in just over 2 hour’s time.  But she happily stood around and delivered her line of dialogue for us enough times for us to cover it and we left her to it.

The rehearsal itself was very good again.  I spent the first part working with the Chorus on the piece I’d written, which was good fun, although slightly odd to be blocking something I’ve had in my head.  It’s what I love about working with performers, though, because it really gives you a chance to work through things and see how they work -and if it’s your own script, you can chop it and change it as much as you like.

The second half of the session was back with my Hamlet trio, who again worked diligently and have formed a great little grouping.  They were struggling slightly to get to the meaning behind some of the Shakespearean waffle, but we worked through it and managed to get through to what lies underneath the flowery poetry and make it make a bit more sense.

Although the show’s not too far away now (and if they’re reading this, they really need to be learning their lines!!), I think this piece has the potential to really show how talented some of our young people are.  Combined with the piece that Suze is directing – called After Juliet, a modern take on the aftermath of the Romeo and Juliet story – it’s a chance for our older members to really show some flair for the dramatic, and we both know that they’ve got the range and the power to do it.

That’s not to say it’s not going to take a considerable amount of work on their part, and support for them on ours, but if the work goes into it, they could make it something really special.  Of course, if they don’t, there’s the worrying prospect of it coming out as a group of youngsters lost in a mire of misunderstood poetry.  But that’s the challenge.

I’m hoping that this weekend is going to provide a nice window of relaxation for me – a chance to stay in bed, or veg on the sofa and do as little as possible, whilst shoe-horning as many calories as possible down my throat to keep energy levels high and infections at bay.

It may have left me struggling for energy, but I’m determined that the weekend isn’t going to take me down!

Well… wow.

Over the course of the last 7 or 8 weeks since I first officially came on board the Laughter for Life project, I’ve sat down or laid in bed at night and thought about how it was going to go and ru all kinds of best-case/worst-case scenarios through my brain. But none of them came even close to last night.

It was, without doubt, one of the best nights of my life and one of my greatest achievements. I felt both proud and piviledge to be part of such a spectacular and succesful event and I can’t even begin to express my gratitude to all of those who were involved, helped out, donated or just encouraged us to do it.

Shattered now, yes, but boy was it worth it.

We didn’t have access to the space until 6 o’clock, so we turned up en masse at the venue around 5.30 to put our stuff down in our function room and lay out our battle plan. Emma, myself, Paula and Rose all took on various jobs without much discussion and everyone just seemed to fit in around what we were doing.

I don’t want this to be a stupidly prolonged thank you session, but I think it’s safe to say that without the assistance of the “significant others” – Brad, K and Julian – things would have been a lot more bumpy.

I left everyone to handle the front-of-house goings on and found my way to the auditorium and found Suze all ready and raring to go as our Stage Manager for the evening. I had no idea that she was going to be as busy as she was – having assured her it was just going to be a case of jogging each act with a 5 minute call before they were due on stage.

As it happened, she was completely invaluable, doing all the legwork that I couldn’t have done. I think our partnership for the night was rather like the proverbial swan, with me sitting serenly above the water looking calm and controlled and marshalling people here and there, whilst Suze paddled away furiously under the surface making sure everything I was marshalling was where it should be to be marshalled.

The acts all turned up in plenty of time (more of an achievement than you’d have thought, let me assure you) and were absolutely brilliant to a man. Kind, generous and fun to chat to, I managed to have a good giggle before we even got to the show itself.

I had Rob, my documentary cameraman, following me around getting all the madness on tape, so it’s going to be interesting to look back on it in a few month’s time and see just how calm I was (or wasn’t!) looking.

We had just over an hour to get everything set up, including rigging a follow spot, getting the band set up and sound-checked and giving the acts a chance to familiarise themselves with the space and the set-up.

They all wandered on stage from the green room just before we opened the house (let the audience in) and chatted with the band to arrange their walk-on music, which was great for them to be able to choose. The house band – Big Buzzard – were brilliant and added such a sheen of professionalism to the whole event.

They were something of a last-minute addition, having offered up their services at relatively short notice, but I’m so glad we took them up on their offer – they really added that extra dimension to the show.

The show itself was simply stunning. The entire bill was nothing short of hilarious and several times throughout the even I thought I was in danger of embarrassing myself with loss of bladder control. If I’d not be tied to an oxygen cylinder, I’d have been rolling in the aisles.

Bill Bailey strung the whole thing together perfectly – giving everyone perfectly distilled little pieces of his humour whilst linking between the acts.  Geoff Whiting, Glenn Wool and Rob Rouse tore through the first half and had me coughing with laughter the whole way.  After the break, I had managed to compose myself enough to be less of a distraction through Ian Stone and Dara O’Briain’s sets.

During the interval, I popped backstage to the Green Room to grab a fresh O2 cylinder – it being the nearest secure place to leave them through the show – and was planning on heading out front to catch up with all the various friends who’d made the effort to come along.

As it was, I ended up in a really long chat with Rob, Glenn, Dara and Ian about my O2 and then segued into CF and its various effects/characteristics.  They were all genuinely interested and keen to learn, and being the Ambassador I am, I’m never going to pass up an opportunity to educate people on CF!

After the show, I was keen to make sure everything got sorted backstage, but was hurriedly ushered off to make my presence at the after-show drinks reception felt.  Although I think what I actually ended up doing was making sure that Richard Madeley understood all of my gobbledigook on his crib sheet for the auction.

Emma stood up and started things off with a run of thank yous and talked for a bit about where the money we raised was going and what we were all here for.  I then followed up with a brief heartstring-plucker to get everyone in the mood to dig deep in their pockets for the auction itself.

I have to say I’d not done any prep for it apart from thinking about my opening line, and I was pretty impressed with what I came up with.  I knew I’d have to talk about some difficult stuff, but I think I’m so used to it now, it just rattles off without me having to think about it too much.

It seemed to set the tone well though, (“Thanks a f**king lot” was Richard’s response when he took the mic from me) and the auction went really well.  Considering all the lots we had were donated for nothing, everything we cleared was money straight in our boxes and we did a great run for 11 lots – over £1,800.

That figure will be swelled over the coming few days with cash from programme sales and the collecting buckets (somewhere in the region of £1,200), and individual donations (which is currently overr £1,000 and expected to rise) – all of which is to be added to our ticket sales, which is somewhere around £15,000.  All told, we’re looking pretty good to hit £20,000 for the whole night – an astounding and truly humbling amount of money.

If you’d like to donate, please please please do – you do it safe and securely (and anonymously, if you wish) at our Just Giving page here.

I think one of the biggest compliments of the night for me, though, was to hear today that there were people in the audience who had no idea they were at a charity gig at all – they had bought their tickets purely on the strength of the bill we presented (no pun intended) and when they realised it was for charity and learned about the cause, couldn’t wait to dig into their pockets and drop cash in our collecting buckets.

I said last week that this whole experience had taught me how wonderful people can be and to believe in the spirit of human nature and it’s only been reinforced over the last couple of days.

This whole event has been one of the greatest – and most rewarding – experiences of my life and I have to thank Emma and Emily not only for letting me be a part of the project they started, but for allowing me to feel so much a part of the team and the cause.

If you’re not already signed up to the organ donor register, you have time to do it now.  If you’ve just read through the whole of this blog entry, you clearly don’t have enough to do today, so you’ve got enough time to take out 2 minutes of your time to go to www.uktransplant.org.uk and sign up right now – it’s fast, it’s electronic and it could make a difference to up to 9 other people’s lives.

Don’t let your death be in vain, and don’t let the 400 people who died last year while waiting for a transplant have passed for nothing.  If there’s any message that should come from this weekend, it’s Live Life Then Give Life.