Archives: Family

I will update the rest of the blog at some point in the near future, but today has been too good to pass up the chance of blogging about it immediately.

As I’ve rather cryptically mentioned over the last couple of weeks I started writing a project that I’m really keen on. Many of you will now know the name of Chris Jones, a friend of mine who set out in 2007 to make an Oscar-winning short film. Many scoffed, but all were eating humble pie when he was short-listed down to the final 7. Now, that short (Gone Fishing, buy it here, it’s awesome) has landed Chris with all sorts of meetings and potential jobs as well as a top-flight manager Stateside.

Never one to re-invent the wheel when others have ploughed the furrow previously (nor, clearly, afraid to mix a metaphor), I thought I’d see if I could write something that might hit the same kind of notes and be the same kind of showcase as Gone Fishing has been for Chris.

So I started writing one night and came up with a story I liked. I sent it to my brother to look at and he liked it. More than that, he sent me 2 pages of notes to bring it up to scratch and then today we’ve spent the afternoon working through the script and really ironing out the detail of some very heavy military sequences.

What I have now is the first official draft of what I believe could become my calling card to the industry. *EGO ALERT, please look away now* I’ve known for a long time that I have the talent to succeed in this business, but I’ve never quite worked out how to convince other people of what I know I can do myself.*EGO OVER* This is it. This is the script that can change everything for me – I 100% believe that.

More than that, my brother likes it so much he’s putting the wheels into motion to get me the kind of support I could only dream of to help get this made. I can’t go into detail here as it’s in way to early a stage, but mark my words – keep your eyes out for Remembrance. It’s going to rock your socks.

Up at 8.15am this morning to head into London with K to drop off her assignments. We decided to make a day of it and thought we’d meet my bro in Town for lunch while we were there.

A 9.46am train from Bletchley – after a minor myriad of parking drama in their new “multi-storey” car park at the station – got us in to Euston just after half ten and into City Uni in Islington around 11am. We did he necessary drop-offs and collection of completed and marked coursework and then repaired to the cafe downstairs to dissect the results, which weren’t what K had hoped for. That said, we subsequently met three of her coursemates who all said that they scored lower than they had hoped and/or expected to and that the piece was particularly difficult.

Didn’t help confidence massively when you see notes in the margin from the tutor marking the piece referring to “applicibility” of something – if the tutor can make up words when summarising an essay, what chance do the students have, really? But that’s just me.

After a cuppa and a quick get-to-know-you chit-chat with some of K’s classmates, she whisked me off on a quick tour of the pertinent parts of the Uni campus, including the way-cool multi-media “pods” that the lecturers use when teaching which have all kinds of awesome high-tech gadgetry in them.

After the tour we headed up to the British Library, grabbing and highly-heathy MacDonald’s lunch on the way, only to discover that the exhibition on Henry VIII we wanted to see isn’t actually open for another 10 days. That’ll teach us to read more carefully.

We wandered back up to Euston with the intention of heading in to Leiscester Square or possibly Oxford Street but a combination of recent lack-of-sleep, extensive walking and half-term foot traffic meant we opted instead just to hop a train home.

Getting back in just after 3pm, I hit the computer for some email clearage before we headed into MK to stop in at Borders. I picked up a couple of bargain DVDs (Children of Men (awesome) and The Diving Bell and The Butterfly (not seen yet)) and K grabbed some reading material. Then we headed over to Waterstones in the Centre:MK to pick up a copy of The Writer’s Tale, a book following Russel T Davies’ creation of his fourth and final season of Dr Who before handing the reins over to Steven Moffat. I’ve so far only read a few pages and I’m already addicted – it’s very open, honest and works to open up the gates on a view of how he writes, something which is hard to find experienced writers talking about. While copying another writing will never work save to make you think very much of their ideas not yours, it’s always interesting to see how someone else approaches things and to realise that you might not be totally barmy after all.

After the book tour and an unsuccessful scout of travel agencies, we hit the cinema for The Boat That Rocks, the best worst film ever of this post’s title.

It’s an extremely bizarre film. It’s hackneyed yet fresh, it’s funny yet corny, it’s laddy yet tender, it’s meaningful yet frivilous. Most of all it’s frustratingly inconsistant – a major plot point (which I won’t divulge save to say it’s the final-reel action beat) moves at various paces from immediate and imminent danger to pausing catastrophe for a tea-break and chat. It leave many, many dramatic beats either unexplored or not followed up, almost like Richard Curtis (he of Four Weddings…, Notting Hill and Love, Actually fame) shot so much stuff he couldn’t choose what to leave in or take out so he closed his eyes and randomly selected scenes to excise.

But despite all of this – things that for almost any other movie I would tear my hair out, shout at the screen and spend 600 words here railing against – I really enjoyed it. It’s funny. It’s emotional, although not as tear-jerking or heavily-sentimental as Love, Actually (the only other of his scripts Curtis has directed himself). And somehow it just works. Just don’t ask me how or why.

After a personally-enforced Easter away from all things work-related, a blissful 4 days off, I spent the large part of last night sitting awake in the lounge unable to sleep. Frustrating isn’t the word.

Still, having been mulling over a new short film project in my head for a little while, I finally managed to get it down on paper. A 13-page stream of constant writing from 3am-5am got me through the whole thing in one shot and I’m actually really proud of the result. I’ve got to assess the options with it now, but I’m likely to “go big” with it – watch this space for grand plans to follow.

In the rest of the world, I slept for a grand total of about 3 hours between 6am and 9am before taking K to the doc’s in Northampton where I intended to work while I waited but ended up listening to a Radio 4 doc on Tommy Cooper instead – it’s almost work! Also chatted to my bro about advising me on certain parts of the new script, so I’ll print him a copy and drop it to him tonight.

When we got home I took the camera kit down to a friend who’s looking to borrow it for a donation to LLTGL so he could do a camera test with his Red Rock 35mm lens adapter and we were all impressed with the results. While I was there I also caught up with the guy who was on board to produce my last short before the casting when tits-up and it fell through. We chatted about our respective current projects and got into a great creative groove, which was awesome. I’ve not really got many friends in the same fields as me – particularly filmmaking and writing – so it was really nice to have a chance to sit and bounce some ideas around with people who think on the same wavelength and are happy to brainstorm ideas without thoughts to practicalities and everything else.

When I got back it was into full helpful-boyfriend mode, helping K encode and burn a DVD for one of her Uni coursework pieces to be handed in tomorrow, before bathing, shaving and dressing to go out.

My bro wanted to thank us all as a family for keeping him semi-sane with gifts and letters while he was away, so he took the five of us (him, me, K and the ‘rents) out to Loch Fyne, the seafood and oyster restaurant in Woburn. I say “new” in the title as it’s not a place I’ve been before, but it’s a real family favourite for everyone else.

Unhappily, many of the best things on the menu are on the big list of Forbidden Items for me post-tx, including Oysters and Mussels, the latter being one of my absolute favourites. I did, however, enjoy a fantatic meal of Squid followed by Bream, the latter being served almost plain such was the quality of the fish and the cooking.

We may also have enjoyed the odd tipple or two.

Back home after dinner, I finished shouting at iMovie (piece of rubbish) and wishing I had taught K how to use Final Cut Pro to edit her vid on, then manage to get it burnt and give her essay a quick proof-reader’s once-over before printing, binding, filing and packing for the morning before bed.

Up at 5.45am as per usual again today – it’s been nice to have a little while off early mornings. Got K to the station then despite the early wake-up I was feeling energised and motivated enough to sit and plough through a wapping 26 pages of the new screenplay, bringing me within about 10 pages of hitting my self-imposed 1st April deadline.

I’m really quite pleased with it all, too. It needs going over and refining, but all first drafts do. The crucial part is that a) I’ve got it down on paper how I saw it in my head and b) I’m actually pretty happy with what I’ve written. Just have to see if I can finish it off now.

The rest of the day was spent catching up on the weekend’s emails and other correspondence. I’d managed to keep away from the computer the whole time which was actually really refreshing. Saturday we chilled at home all day – another total and rare blessing – and then spent the evening with Gramps at the ‘rents. Sunday we chilled in the morning before I headed to work, then got dinner and chats with Gramps again before they leave tomorrow, although it wasn’t a late one as we were obviously both up early-doors tomorrow.

After all my brother’s exploits in the Sun last week (see this article and it’s related links. He’s the dude in the goggles in the pic, plus featured in many of the videos), I got a call from him this morning to let us know he’s on his way home this week.

While that sounds like fab news – and for us, it is – it’s actually really gutting for him. It seems he’s torn the ligaments in his ankle playing some post-ops rugby in camp and now can’t stay out there for the week or so of wrap-up session they’ve got and then their wee company/commando jolly to Cyprus on the way home. Instead, he’s trying to resist letting them put a cast on it and eyeing a spot on the AeroMed home this Thursday. Like I say, fab news, but gutting for him.

Up again around 8am – second lie-in in a row! – and ran K down to nursery before popping in to see a friend who’s right at the end of her pregnancy and trying desperately not to let Baby come along yet. She was feeling awful today and really struggling, but she’s almost full term and there shouldn’t be any issues, which is something I tried to reassure her of.

I ran home quickly before popping down to the nursery to film an interview with K and the nursery manager for her course, which she then has to come home and edit into something coherent for her tutor to observe her clinical practice. Or something.

Had a look around the nursery, too, which is absolutely lovely. It’s a private nursery just down the road from where we live and it’s so beautifully set out with so many stimuli for the children. I dropped in on the babies (3-18 months) who were all unbelievably cute and gorgeous. The nursery itself is a large private house that’s been converted for use and the back garden is jam-packed with awesome play equipment which really let’s the kids throw themselves around and have fun.

Popped home again (lots of popping today, clearly) for half-an-hour before going back to collect K and coming home to polish up the multi-media stuff for the Royal’s scratch performance tonight, when I’ll finally get chance to see the whole piece as one and work a little on the timing of the various elements.

The majority of the afternoon was spent between Photoshop and Final Cut Pro, making logos and composites in the former and editing together a montage of war footage in the latter, all of which went pretty quickly and easily, to my surprise. I wasn’t sure I’d get it all done for the rehearsal/performance tonight, but in the end I did it fairly comfortably, which I was really chuffed with.

Headed to Northampton and dropped K at her appointment, then went on to catch up with a couple of friends I’ve not seen in ages. Suze, who I’ve worked with extensively for nearly 8 years, gave me some really good ideas of how to try to engage the Youth Theatre groups we’ve been struggling with recently, which I’m hoping I’ll be able to put into practice over the next term to try to pull the young people into the sessions and get them to engage.

After a quick coffee and catch-up, I moved on to the scratch performance, which started a little late but was hugely useful in working out how and when my pieces can slot in most unobtrusively, in order to best support the work that the group are doing on the stage.

Late start meant late finish again, getting away from the Royal around 9pm, which was quite a bit later than I’d wanted to get out, then picked K up from her bro’s house where she was babysitting while our niece was out with them for her birthday meal. I did get to see J, though, to wish her a happy birthday, which was really nice because I wasn’t expecting to see her.

Dinner, then, was incredibly late, getting home as we did around 11pm, which then meant I wasn’t getting to sleep until well after midnight as I was wide awake from the food. Ho hum. At least I get a proper lie-in, veg-out session tomorrow morning. Bliss.

Today I finally finished my run of 4 talks in 3 weeks with an address to the CF Trust’s regional conference in Oxford.

Rosie, the Chief Exec of the Trust, originally asked my consultant to come along and talk about the adult service, but she couldn’t make it so the baton was passed to me. I love doing talks and things in general, but especially for the Trust. And even more extra-specially when it’s to talk up the amazing team at Oxford who helped keep me alive long enough to reach transplant.

I would pop the text up on here, but it was a 30 minute speech and the text is close-on 3000 words, which is quite a good deal mroe than anyone really wants to read on a blog, but if you really, totally desperately want to read a copy of it, let me know and I can mail it to you.

It went really well – by all accounts so did the entire day – and it seemed to strike the right notes I was trying to hit. It’s always hard to pitch a speech to parents of people with CF, particularly some very young children. You need to make sure you’re not belittling the task that lies ahead, the enormity of dealing with all the crap that life with CF throws at you, but at the same time it’s important to let them know that CF doesn’t strip your life away of all meaning or ability to have fun and it certainly doens’t mean you’re going not going to be able to make something of your life.

I think – I hope – that I managed to pitch it right this time. Certainly all the feedback I received from the day was positive, but then it’s got to be a pretty awful and borderline insulting speech that will make anyone come up to you afterwards and tell you it was rubbish, so it’s good not to get too carried away.

It was nice, though, to have a chance to catch up with the team who came along. Clinic time is so precious I’m always reluctant to stay and chat too long, but today I got there at lunch time with a chance to sit down with them (and my parents, who decided to come along for the day) and have a really good catch up and chat about things – medical and non.

On the way home I developed a killer headache and was running much later than I’d planned, so I had to pull out of a rehearsal visit in Northampton for the project I’m working on with the Royal and instead couldn’t do much more than veg on the sofa and eat a bowl of soup. Really bizarre, hard-core headache, it was, but it doesn’t seem to have recurred as badly since, so it must have been a one off and probably thanks to dyhdration more than anything else. Was a sucky end to the day, but it had been a good one for most of it, so no real complaints.

Hugest apologies for the lack of blogging – last week was completely manic, trying to squeeze in as much of my over-flowing inbox of work as I could before spending the weekend away in Bath with K’s ‘rents for their joint birthdays.

It was a totally fantastic time, but I was unable to fore-warn of a lack of blogging as it would have given the game away. The weekend, which was spent in a rented cottage just outside Bath in a lovely little village near Westbury along with three very good friends of the family, was a total surprise.

We took K’s ‘rents off to Longleat house for a tour, which her Mum believed was all that was happening, before she received instructions to pack for 3 days away. Arranging to travel in separate cars, we arrived with her best friend from the village back home in ours to surprise her. With the other friends traveling up from Devon stuck in roadworks, we frantically tried to delay the house tour for half-an-hour. Expecting to be told that it couldn’t be done, instead we were offered a private tour of the house for no extra charge – remarkable people at Longleat.

Despite the delay, we were still un-accompanied at 12.30 when our private showing of the great house began. It was a fascinating and mesmerising tour and I’d recommend it to anyone with an interest in history or historical houses – it’s gobsmacking. Half-way round, the staff were so unbelievably kind enough to bring the missing pair of our party up to join us when they arrived. Much surprise (although Mama D had guessed who the sixth and seventh of the party might turn out to be) and hugs/handshakes ensued before the very accommodating host could continue her tour.

Once we were done we all repaired to a local pub for a late lunch, after which we all waved goodbye to the each other before heading, in convoy, to Woodside Cottage to surprise them once again with their accommodation and the fact that all of us were, in fact, staying with them.

The evening was spent in a bit of a haze of trying to work out who was where (K and I being in the annex across the way), whether anyone wanted to eat anything (verdict: no, but cake will do nicely) and what we were up to the next day (eventual decision, whatever we wanted) before we all engaged in a frankly hilarious round of card games before taking ourselves to an early bed.

The next morning, to my surprise, I was awake before the house opposite, heading out on a paper run before breakfast. After a chilled out morning, K and I headed into Bath itself to catch up with a an old friend over lunch and a personalised tour of Bath, which included some very strange people reading poetry in a taxi and more gorgeous architecture than you could shake a stick at.

In the evening, after a brief afternoon nap, we all enjoyed dinner together before a dynamite game of Scattagories before crashing out.

Weirdly, I woke up on Sunday morning feeling absolutely awful. I’m not sure if I was over-heating and dehydrated or had eaten something disagreeable the previous day, but my head was pounding and I felt incredibly sick.

As the others all headed off to Lacock Village and Manor, I stayed in bed with K watching over me and ended up sleeping until gone 3pm, at which point I woke up feeling almost right-as-rain, save for a lack of energy from lack of food.

Another evening of fun-and-frolics was met with an early(ish) morning this morning, getting up to breakfast, pack and leave by 10 am. As the others began their trek home, K and I decided to take a more leisurely turn back to MK, stopping to catch up on Lacock (where I discovered they’d used the Abbey to shoot portions of the Hogwarts cloisters in the first two Harry Potter films), taking pics and enjoying tea in the oh-so-English tea-shops that abound in pretty little villages around the country.

On the road home from Lacock we got minorly lost around Cirencester before coming through the most beautiful village/town we’ve been through on all of our travels. The name escapes me, but I want to live there.

Coming through Bicester on the way home, we stopped at Bicester Village, which K had never seen. After wandering the stores deciding that we can’t afford anything there (sorry, we didn’t like the look of anything there), we jumped in the car and headed home, only stopping for the briefest of traditional post-tour stops at Borders and then a quick meal at a fantastically-valued but chronically unfriendly pub before getting home around 7pm, unpacking our things, changing the bed, showering, blogging and – now – going to bed.

It’s been a great weekend and it’s been really nice to totally remove myself from work for a few days. Now it’s back to the grindstone and on with the first of my 3 talks in 10 days.

This is about the first time I’ve had to sit and blog for over a week now (well, in fact, since I last updated). What with my bro jetting off to scarier climbs, K going back to Uni after a fitful snow-induced break right after getting back to Uni after an enormous Christmas break and my attempts to get not one but two new companies off the ground, it’s been a pretty busy time.

It’s been a great time, though – although I’ve been busy I’ve also had time to enjoy myself and have a lot of fun. Last weekend, for example, I took my more local Godson to Wendover Woods to do the high-ropes course which will remain nameless for my lack of desire to see them get any random, free, Google-based publicity.

After booking well in advance for one of the only days they’re open during winter, especially as a b’day pressie for li’l R, we hiked a mile up the hill into the woods only to discover that not only were they not open, they’d not even finished putting the course back together after the winter.

Not wanting to be deterred from the idea of a day of fun, we half-walked, half-skated around the woods for a while before drowning our sorrows in a big pile of chocolate at Rumsey’s, the awesome little Chocolaterie in Wendover village itself. In the evening, we carried on the frivolities at the Old Green Man in one of the Brickhills (I never know which one I’m in apart from Bow, but that’s just because a had a friend who lived there).

I’ve also been hard at work preparing a website for the new companies. LLTGL‘s resident IT-guru and website ubermeister Tom (of nowhereland fame) has been full of expertly-helpful ubertips to make it look shiny and cool, although now I have the problem of writing the copy to sell myself to people, which presents more of a challenge.

We also had a hugely successful tranche of Valentine’s Cake Bakes for LLTGL, which has been a great way to see all our supporters get truly energised about helping us out. Plus, let’s face it, everyone loves a bit of cake.

I’m now so tired from the early-starts and busy days that I’m struggling to recall all the things that I’ve done, but suffice it to say it’s been manic. And fun.

Oooh, and I finally – after over a decade of dreaming, hoping and wishing – got hold of my Equity card. I’m now a fully paid-up member of the only union that’s ever appealed to me. Somehow I don’t think it’s going to be the pass-card to fame and fortune on the world stage like I used to believe it was, but hey – it’s a life goal realised.

LOVED the snow today. Kati was off Uni as there was no transport whatsoever in London, which was pretty cool. I shot over to the ‘rents very gingerly this morning, trying to catch Gramps before he left for home, but failed as he wanted to get going in case the weather got worse.

Stayed and had breakfast (I left in a hurry) and coffee, then played a little Wii with my bro before dropping him at the station.

Worked all afternoon on various bits and pieces, but since most people work in London it limited an amount of what I could get done.

K and I ventured out to Tesco to grab some dinner stuff since our cupboards were Old Mother Hubbard’s and while we were there we had a little too much fun with snowballs and decided rather than going home we’d go play. We phoned K’s bro nearby, but the kids were showered and changed and not allowed out again, so we phoned S&S instead and decided that we could still play because we’re grown-ups, which means we can do what we like.

So after swinging by KFC for a snow-bound dinner, we headed to the S&S house, wolfed our food down and headed for the play-park, where the game of Snowball Chicken was promptly invented while K built a snowman.

I ran around a lot and felt a little bit sick from bending down constantly to gather snow up, but that’s OK because I’m a grown-up. I also broke the back of the snowman’s head off by mistake when I was trying to make him a better eye socket. That wasn’t quite so OK as K had spent a long time on him and it was bad. I did repair him, though.

We meandred back to the house and tried to make a smiley face from snowballs on the wall, but it looked more like the wall had a nasty case of albino chicken pox. Oh, well.

We got back home, showered and changed and settled on the sofa to catch up with a ton of stuff we’ve got recorded on Sky+, watching A Short Stay In Switzerland, the BBC film about assisted suicide based on a true story. It’s a cracking film with great performances but an unfotunately clunky script.

Suitably teared-up, we head to bed around 11pm and I sack out pretty quickly.

The alarm goes off at a frankly unconscionable 5am and I drag myself up and into the shower. K and I hurriedly dress and K bolts some cereal while I head down with Dazz, scrape the car off and bring it round the front. Strangely, we’re not as overly concerned about getting parking tickets as we were when we parked here to unload last night. Wonder why?

We’re on the road by 6am, heading South as rapidly as we safely can, making good time until we have to make a stop for petrol, delaying us just a touch. We get back to Mum and Dad’s around 8.30, where I drop K as it’s closer to the M1 than our place, then pretty much turn straight around, heading again for fuel (I wasn’t going to fill my whole tank at service-station prices when I knew I could top up in MK for about 5p per litre cheaper), grabbing something for breakfast and a large cup of coffee at the same time.

I get back on the road and fly down the M1 and round the M25 to Surrey to Emily’s place for the Live Life Then Give Life meeting. To my surprise, even after turning off the wrong junction (I blame my crap-covered windscreen, not my memory), I still arrive in plenty of time.

We have a meeting, which all goes very well and we sort everything from the week out, which is a blessing, plus move forward with our planning for the next 12 months or so. I leave around 2.30, dropping Jen at the station before hitting the M1 home and getting in around 4ish after making really good time home – and not even speeding crazily.

I get to Mum and Dad’s and, since I’m earlier than I’d thought, I head upstairs and pass out on the bed for an hour. After my nap I wander downstairs and sit flicking through the paper and the book I bought at Blackwell’s yesterday, which somehow seems a very, very long time ago.

Dad rustles us up some steaks, which are lovely but still have to be disappointly over-cooked due to my strict dietary-controls post-transplant. I have them less-than-well done, which is technically against the rules, but I don’t see the point in steak if you cremate it before eating it. And it’s not blue, or even rare, so that’s OK I figure.

After dinner we head back to the flat, where we veg in front of the telly and catch up on some Sky+’d stuff before calling it a night early, where I hit the pillow and pass out completely.