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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.

Blimey, life moves at a hundred miles an hour sometimes, doesn’t it?

A friend asked me the otheer day how I think of things to put in this blog everyday – and I have to admit sometimes it does seem a little pointless to be writing when nothing much has happened.

And then you get days like today, where it’s ALL happened!

It all kicked off at 10am this morning when the phone woke us up.  Until today, I’ve been up and about by 8.30am every day for over 2 weeks – completely naturally, waking of my own accord.  But the first day I sleep in, it all kicks off.

Steve from Tin Racr Design was on the phone, asking if I’d got his proof of the programme through yet, which I had to confess I’d not seen because I wasn’t out of bed.  Hastily rolling out of bed, I plonked myself in front of the computer and checked my mails to discover not just the proof, but also an email from the printers we thought were handling the printing for us saying they could no longer do it.

To say I panicked would be overstating it slightly – I’m not really a panicky person –  but let’s say my calm took a bit of a dent.  Rolling K out of bed, I thrust the phone, a yellow pages and an outline of what we needed into her hands and got her dialling while I jumped on the job of proof-reading the awesome-looking programme.

In the middle of the chaos, other emails kept firing in from various sources, all seemingly demanding instant attention.  I can go days without getting any emails (well, ok, not at the moment) and usually you can sort them into various piles of urgency, but almost every one that came through today seemed to need an immediate response.

Understandably, with all my activity and the prospect of an exhausting rehearsal session at the Theatre tonight still to come, K was getting anxious that I pace myself and make sure I was keeping enough in my tank.

I pride myself on working well under pressure and although I had a couple of moments of dread at points today, I managed not only to address everything I needed to, but also to make sure I had enough time to have a proper lunch and take time to lie down in the afternoon to recharge before work.

As well as signing off on the programme, today has seen me: get hold of a follow-spot for the show, finalise two auction lots, get a sponsor for the programme (the legendary Dunham’s Solicitors in MK), confirm all the technical details with the venue and recruit a stage manager to handle the back-stage organisation for the show (well, nearly recruit, anyway, as it’s dependent on getting hold of someone else first – but we’re nearly there).

Not only that, but I’ve had a three-hour rehearsal at MKT for the Youth Theatre show, including an hour-and-a-half working solely with my three wonderful Hamlet cast members who have taken to the whole thing so much better than I could possibly have hoped.

Shakespeare is not an easy thing to grasp and there’s a lot of nuance and little touches to the text which can take an age to go over and discover in the rehearsal process.  I was so happy tonight to find that the cast have already got a good grasp of the text, but also that they are keen to share ideas and work with me and with each other to find a balance between their characters.

It’s been a long time since I’ve worked specifically as a director in a rehearsal setting and it felt great to be putting something together again – I realised tonight just how much I miss that area of the Theatre and how much more I want to do down that avenue.

On top of which, I also delivered the final part of the piece I’ve written to open the first and second acts of the show and it went down really well with the cast, which is always a good place to start.  I was concerned it might need a bit of redrafting, which would have been a headache considering how limited the rehearsal time now is, but it’s actually looking like it’s going to be OK as-is.

And now I find myself back home in front of my inbox again (with another 12 emails come through since I left the house at 5.30 tonight) and discovering a whole new load of greatness to polish off my day.

We’ve got some really good media interest, which will hopefully convert into coverage, and a few more pieces of the auction have fallen into place – including securing a workshop for people to see behind the scenes on Avenue Q, which I’m so insanely excited about it’s funny.

I’m now tired enough to go to sleep almost immediately, but I’m also pleased that I don’t feel totally exhausted.  I suppose the true measure is going to be how I feel when I roll out of bed and drag myself over to Oxford for clinic in the morning, but I think I’ve got the Big Guy on my side this week and he’s making sure I’ve got the fuel inside to see me through the weekend.

That said, I’m not taking anything for granted: I know I have to look after myself and pace myself or I’m not going to be able to make the most of what’s going to be one of the best night’s of my life.

Four days and counting!

We’re 5 days out from Laughter for Life and things are gathering pace with alarming speed.  It feels constantly like there’s a thousand things to do for us to be ready on time, but actually, when I sit and analyse where we stand, there’s really very little to be done.

It’s reassuring (in a sense) to think that the night could actually go ahead and probably run perfectly smoothly if we all completely stopped working now and did nothing until Sunday.  Of course, that’s not going to happen – we’re all far too commited to making this night the best it can possibly be – but I think it may serve well to remind ourselves as we fret over the final details that actually the leg-work is behind us and we’re now adding the icing/gravy/hair gel/anaolgy of choice to an already fab night.

Today was press release day and with the help of our awesome PR-guru Paula, who’s done a whole heap of work for Live Life Then Give Life in the past, we’ve mailed out press releases to local and national media.  I think the naitonal ones are due out tomorrow morning, but all my local ones have gone today, so I’m hoping that tomorrow and Thursday should be full of phone calls and sparked media interest.  We’ll have to wait and see.

Also today, we’ve made great strides in gathering some great lots for our auction which is taking place in the VIP party afterwards, which include some signed Might Boosh stuff, a raft of Theatre tickets with accompanying bonus features which are still being pulled together through various wheeler-dealings around the place and some great pamper packs and treatment sessions and some awesome original artwork.

Emma is really struggling with a new course of IV’s, which is incredibly rubbish timing for her, but goes to prove that CF pays no heed to any other masters and will wantonly and brazenly do whatever it can to intrude on life.  But, she is showing the classic resiliance of all PWCF and not letting the little bugger get in the way.  “Chest infection? Pah!  I laugh in your face! You shan’t stop me!”

Patrick, from Bill Bailey’s management agency is being a total legend in helping us get things squared away and sorting last minute bits and pieces with us and Steve from Tin Racer, who do all the artwork and design for CF Talk is ploughing through preparing the programme for the evening for us.

It’s amazing how helpful and kind people have been in coming together to make this event happen.  People have given us things, offered extras, consitantly gone the extra mile and done whatever they can to help us along, with goods, services, money or support.

It’s amazing to see just how much goodwill there is in the world and a sobering thought when you consider the cynical times we live in.  People seem to expect so little of other people and often assume the worst.  What I’ve found throughout the last six weeks or so that I’ve been fully involved with this as a project is that people are far more ready to support and help people than I would ever have expected.

I’ve always prided myself on thinking the best of people and often wondered if I’m being just a little naive in my belief in the goodness of the human race.  But this project has taught me to stick to my guns even when the world around me is presenting a universally cynical view of itself through the press and TV – people are fantastic and if you give them a chance, they will bend over backwards to help you out.

There is no way this night would have been possible without the MASSIVE assistance of a huge number of people and each and every one has made contributions that could have stopped the whole show in its tracks.

This is more than just a gig: it’s a chance to tell a whole new crowd of people about the importance of organ donation.  But more than that, it’s reaffirmed my belief in people and it’s also given me the confidence to believe that if I want to do something, I really can do it.

Five sleeps and counting until the night of the year so far!

I’m always loathe to jump up and down and rave about having a good few days without any enforced bouts of bed rest.  Well, let’s face it, I’m always loathe to jump up and down full stop any more.  All right, I’ve ALWAYS been loathe to jump up and down.  Even when I could.

Still, it seems that the last few days have been particularly encouraging for me – a full day’s shooting all day Saturday, a nice, restful Sunday which still managed to include a trip to K’s parent’s for a lovely Sunday/Brithday lunch for her Mum and a middlingly-active day today getting K sorted for her new job and fixed up with sexy new specs.

I seem – seem – to have found a nice equilibrium with my energy levels for the moment – succeeding in balancing a need for restful periods with achieving the most important goals of the day without running myself completely into the ground.

I’m hesitant to be fully excited until I get a couple of days further into the week with no repercussions, but so far, so good.

The day’s shooting on Saturday was really good fun.  Although we had quite a bit of time pressure to ensure we were out of the public areas of the Theatre by the time the matinee audience came in, we actually got all of the stuff we wanted relatively quickly and with very few hiccups.

We did, unfortunately, realise later that we’d miss-shot one scene and made a fatal error known in the trade as “crossing the line”.  This is far too hideously boring to explain in full to anyone not familiar with the term, as it’s a bit of a pedantic, anally retentive technical thingy to look out for, but unfortunately it’s one thing that can completely ruin a film when it’s all cut together.  Most of an audience would never be able to point it out, but would undoubtedly know there’s something wrong with what their watching.

Luckily for us, the scene in question with the minorly-major technical hiccup (or f**k up, depending on your view) is one which we still have to shoot a couple of additional shots for, so shouldn’t be too much of a problem to go back and rectify.  Fingers crossed.

Today I spent another morning in front of a camera, this time giving an interview for a student film for Bournemouth  University’s journalism programme about transplant and life on the list, as well as what can be done to increase donor rates.

It’s nothing major, but I was put in touch with the filmmaker through UK Transplant and as I said at the time I agreed to it, any publicity is good publicity.  I think it’s particularly good because there’s a chance it’ll be seen by a good number of students at the uni and that the message it sends out will get through to one of the most campaign-aware sectors of the population.

There’s huge amounts of resources sitting around university campuses in way of students who can be incredibly vocal about any subject close to their heart.  Make just a few of them aware of the importance of having people signed up to the organ donor register and there could be a whole new wave of Live Life Then Give Life supporters coming through the system and shouting louder than we have before.

Arrangements continue apace for Laughter for Life and I’ve spent a large chunk of the day on the phone to various people and rapidly swapping emails to finalise press strategy for the week, with local MK releases going out tomorrow.  Our national campaign should begin in earnest this week, too, although we’re a little disappointed that Bill’s not able to help us with shouting from the rooftops due to his already manic schedule.

That said, we’ve got an entire 3-hour gig lined up for Sunday night with some of the countries top comedians donating their time for nothing and for which we’ve already sold out a 600-seat Theatre, so it’s pretty hard to be unhappy about anything!

Here’s hoping the rest of the week stays as smooth as today.  We’ve got a few auction lots to finalise and gather, as well as the press and media work to cover.  I’ve got some technical gubbins to double check and artists to liase with.  We’ve got an auction to plan and sales to figure out, and I don’t even know what I’m wearing yet!

Gosh, it’s all go!

It’s funny to read people’s observations on my posts on here, both in the comments on the site and emails I receive.  A lot of people seem to have had the same thought: that I do too much on my Good days, which in turn leads to the Bad days.

I have to admit that this is something I have thought of before, but I just don’t seem to have taken heed of my own warnings.  I think my family probably think the same thing, but then how often does one really listen to one’s own family when they’re telling us something unpalatable which, to an extent, we already know?

I certainly think that the thought must have occured to my Mum and Dad but they’ve refrained from bringing it up with me because they know it’s a lesson I need to learn for myself and won’t accept being told from outside.  It’s the way my family has always worked, and it’s made me all the stronger for it.  It’s a strong parent who can take a step back and let their kids make “avoidable” mistakes in order to help them learn and grow – and it’s something I’ll always be grateful for.

But having had comments on here now confirming my worst – and most hidden – suspicions about my general appraoch to getting on with things, it really seems to have sunk in.  Well, I say that now, but we’ll have to wait and see where it goes from here.

I feel almost like I’m turning over a new leaf – making a pledge to myself to try to regulate the amount of things that I do so that I can either maintain a constant energy level throughout the week, or else build in sufficient rest periods for the times immediately following major (or minor) exertions.

Yet again, I’m reminded of the value of this blog as so much more than merely a record of what I’m doing with myself from day-to-day.  It’s helped me to learn and grow and stay in touch with the essential elements of making sure I live my life to it’s fullest for however long I’m given.

I have to accept that things aren’t going to be a breeeze and I’m not going to be able to do all the things I want to do.  But I can also promise myself that I will do whatever is necessary to get the most out of the experiences and activities that mean the most to me.

So thanks to everyone who’s emailed, commented and talked me through my highs and lows – you make a big difference to the way things go around here.

Keep smiling, because I am.

I did it!! I actually managed to go out on a Saturday night without a) running out of steam after half-an-hour, b) not being able to get out of bed the next morning and c) feeling too self-conscious about wearing my O2 while I was out.

It’s a big step for me, really, and I’m really happy this morning. It was K’s Dad’s 60th this week and the whole family (the 4 off-spring and relevent +1’s) headed out to Sam and Maxie’s, a new place in the “Hub” where the new business/hotel-type district of MK is going up.

If I’m honest, I’ve been fretting about it on and off all week, what with my somewhat unpredicatable blowers and anti-biotic reactions at the moment, because I really wanted to be there and share the night with the rest of the family. K and I have known each other for a long time, and I’ve known her family for most of our friendship, but it was also the first time I was joining up with a full family gathering as “one of them” and I really didn’t want to have to bail out because my chest was being beligerent
(sorry, Nick, but it is in the dictionary if you want to check…).

It’s probably going to sound funny to people who know me, but last night really did feel like a bit of a watershed moment for me – like I was being welcomed into the family. There was no fanfare or special treatment or anything like that, but just that feeling of comfort you get when you stop worrying about whether or not everyone is really happy that you’re there and accept that it really does appear that they can tolerate your company.

Of course, it was helped hugely by being able to bribe the twins round to my side my being a taxi, but you never get anywhere in life without the odd backhander, eh?

But I think most importantly for me last night, helped by feeling welcome and comfortable, was that I managed to get through the whole thing without worrying about how I was feeling. I seemed to have the perfect energy levels for the night. I didn’t arrive home exhausted, nor did I feel that I had to not do something because I wasn’t up to it.

I was about to say that I suppose that sitting in a restaurant having dinner isn’t too taxing, so I shouldn’t really make a fuss, but actually, on reflection, it shows how far I’ve come in my recovery since before Christmas that my mind is working like that. Back in November/December, the idea of spending 3 hours sat in a restaurant, oxygen or no oxygen would have been enough to send me to bed to sleep for a week – so it really is a big deal for me to have got through it.

It’s funny how these little victories often nearly go unnoticed and it’s one of the things I love about doing this blog. In the same way I said when I started out that I hoped writing it all down would encourage me to see the wood for the trees and not get bogged down in hard times, but remember to keep smiling, I think it helps me not to overlook the upsides which might otherwise get glossed over.

Whatever way you look at it, I’ve come a long way since the turn of the year – like any period in life it’s had it’s ups and downs, but it’s worth reminding myself that I’ve done some amazing things and I’m doing better than I perhaps would have hoped in terms of moving forward both physically and mentally.

A week in hospital for respite pre-show this week should also do me a lot of good and although I know I’m not going to like it much when I’m there, it’s been reassuring to have the knowledge of an impending stay to let me prepare for it, rather than the usual course of getting it hoisted on me when I’m at my lowest.

The next week can’t really go quick enough, but at least I’m on a high going into it, which should stand me in good stead for keeping my spirits up through it.

Today has been, frankly, a pretty rubbish day.

Yet again last night my drugs and brain conspired to keep me awake almost the whole way through the night,  letting me finally drift off for more than an hour just before my 6am alarm call for my morning IV’s, followed by my usually solid sleep-time of 7-11am being interrupted by phone calls, deliveries and other distractions.

So a bad start to a long day as it was, which put me in a less than fabulous mood for the rest of it, which in turn annoyed me because my cousin Katie was down from Brum to catch a show at the Theatre and we were planning on having a bit of a day of it.

As it was, I could hardly muster the energy to entertain, although we did have a good chat and a cracking Game of Life with K (which I won, natch…).  But I still had to collapse into bed mid-afternoon to catch up on sleeps.

My body was simply not keen to play ball today though and stubbornly refused to wake itself up from my nap, which dragged me further into struggles for general awake/happiness.

The thought of getting through an hour and a half’s work session was, I have to admit, less than appealing, so it came as some relief when Rheya phoned to pass a message from Suze to say that since most of my group weren’t in for tonight, it made more sense for me to stay at home, so I delivered Katie to the Theatre and sorted her tickets before heading straight back home.

No sooner was I back than my chest started playing silly buggers again and givingg me all sorts of grief – mostly muscle-related pain, I think, from where I’ve been sleeping and holding myself a little strangely due to the IV access in my shoulder.

Being both exhausted and in pain is never a great modd-enhancing combo, so I was getting spectacularly downbeat and po-faced when I discovered perhaps the funniest thing I’ve seen on TV in a long time.

Curled up in bed with K, we flicked onto Never Mind The Buzzcocks and I laughed so hard I’m sure the pain from my chest has migrated to my stomach.

I’ve really no idea who Donny Tourettes is – or even if I’ve got his name right – but he made for some of the most unintentionally hilarious TV viewing since You’ve Been Framed made people laugh.

Watching Bill Bailey and Simon Amstell (both newly minted personal heroes of mine) ripping into Donny’s bizarre attempts at either rebellion or humour, coupled with his own self-image of sex-god punk rockstar out to diss the world had me doubled over in laughter and nearly falling off the bed.

It goes to prove that no matter how lousy things get, I was right all along when I said that the only way to deal with the tough times is to smile through it.

God bless you, Buzzcocks.

Tuesdays are traditionally oone of those nothing days, aren’t they?  They’re not Monday, so there’s no real reason to hate them, but neither are they Friday, with the joy of an impending weekend, nor Sunday, with it’s laid back, pipe-and-slippers feel.

So it was a wonderful turn up for the books yesterday when we seemed to have a belated Christmas of good tidings all tumble into our laps over the course of a happy, exciting, smile-making morning, afternoon and evening.

First thing in the morning, we kicked off with a wonderful double-whammy for K where in the space of 30 minutes she discovered not only that she had she been accepted on her college course – a 12-month access to healthcare which will set her up to head to uni to study Speech Therapy next year – but also that she’s been granted an interview for a job which would fit both her and our needs perfectly.

Coming directly on top of that, I had a HUGELY productive morning working on the Laughter for Life show, getting to grips with a number of pressing issues.  Most unbelievably generous and fantastic for us was the agreement of Steve at Tin Racer, who do all the design work for CF Talk, to design the programmes for the night for free.  Not only that, but he also offered to talk to his contacts to see if we can get it printed for free, too!

After beavering away on all things funny for the morning, we then popped out to Mazda to test drive the Mazda 6 – a proper, grown-up car which I have to confess I’ve rather fallen in love with.  I’ve been looking to change my current car on the Motablilty scheme since November, when I realised that in order to stay mobile when I’m less well, it may be better for me to have an automatic gearbox, to take away some of the physical exertion of driving.  It now looks like we’ve found the right car – and may well be off to order it tomorrow!

On top of all of that, K then started her college course in the evening (cutting it fine on the admissions front, MK College…) and came through the evening unscathed and looking forward to what the next 12 months hold academically.

I spent the time she was in college hanging out with a friend who I haven’t spent a lot of time with for ages and we caught up.  Adding to the Super Tuesday feel, he was filling me in on his new relationship (early stages, but hey, it’s still a relationship) and I couldn’t have been happier for him.  I know he’s feeling a bit conflicted about it all at the moment (loooooong story…) but I think it’s fab and he should enjoy it!

Every now and again one of those days come along where everything just seems to go your way.  So often in life we can only remember those days when everything seems to go against you, so I’m determined to hold on to the memoryof my Super Tuesday and use it in future to blast away the cobwebs when I’m starting to doubt my productivity or the wisdom of things.

Everyone should have a Super Tuesday at some point, and when you do, make sure you lodge it in your memory and share the good news with all around you.  Nothing like a ray of sunshine through the snow to make people smile.

Believe me, I know how strange this sounds coming from someone who’s spent the last two months writing about the various different ups and downs in his live, but just now I’m finding it unbelievably hard to find the right words to describe just how happy I’m feeling.

This is one of those periods of life that just make you sit back and smile – to count your blessings and realise that the world is not really a big, evil place that intent on wearing you down, but rather that if you put yourself in the right position to be the master of your own destiny and you look at the world from the right perspective, things will sooner or later start to swing your way.

I can also appreciate how bizarre it might sound for someone who is currently waiting for someone else to die so that he can have a chance of a fresh, new tilt at life to even begin to decribe himself as the master of his own destiny.

But success or failure, good or bad, up or down is all a matter of perception.

Paul McKenna, in numerous published writings (not least Change Your Life in 7 Days, which I would recommend to anyone, even the most sceptical of self-help depreciators) cites the words of Thomas Edison when questioned as to how he felt after failing for the 700th time in his attempt to invent the electric light:

“I have not failed 700 times. I have not failed once. I have succeeded in proving that those 700 ways will not work. When I have eliminated all the ways that will not work, I will find the way that will work.”

Right now, in as much as these things matter to me, everything is going my way:

I’m back living at home in my lovely little flat with my girlfriend whom I’m very much in love with and I’m honoured to say is very much in love with me.

I’m working on 3 projects which not only motivate and excite me, but also give me aims, objectives and reasons to keep well.

My chest is behaving exactly as I expect it to.  It’s not ever going to fire on all cylinders again, but that’s why I’m on the transplant list.  All I can ask it to do now is support me as best it can until such time as God sees fit to call time on these knackered old blowers and give me a fresh set.

I’m surrounded by people whom I love and who love me back – my friends are fantastic and don’t ever make me feel bad for not being able to join in  things, nor complain when I pull out of things at the last minute; my family all go out of their way to do whatever I need of them, no matter how little or unreasonable; people I work with make huge allowances for what I can and can’t do and never bat an eyelid or make me feel like I’m stretching their patience (even when I know I must – I stretch my OWN patience with some of the last-minute turnarounds, it can’t be easy for others to deal with).

Every once in a while all the pieces in your life seem to align just so – like the planets and the sun, or the cogs of a machine – and for a moment life seems just right.  And it’s so, so, so important to seize that moment, to recognise it for what it is: fleeting perfection of it’s own kind which will last but a flicker, but if you see it and grasp it, it will last forever in the memory.

I’m under no illusions that this will continue unabated; I know there will be trouble ahead – harder times, darker times, more challenging and less fun times, but damned if I’m not going to enjoy the good stuff while it’s here.

Like the song says: while there’s moonlight and music and love and romance, I’ll be the one on the dance floor.

Today has been just as productive as yesterday, but also HUGELY more exciting because I officially climbed aboard a project being run by the Live Live Then Give Life campaign putting on a comedy night at the Mermaid Theatre in London in March.

The history to the night is quite long and convoluted, but mainly involves Emily getting a phone call a while back from Bill Bailey, who’d been told through the grapevine from a reader of her blog that she was a fan and had been having a hard time.

Now, there’s a very funny story here about serial-schmoozer Emily getting hideously tongue-tied and not being able to form sentences, but I wouldn’t like to embarrass her, so I’ll leave that bit out. Oh wait….

Anyway, after chatting to her for a while, Bill apparently succumbed to what many people have come to know as the “Emily Effect” – that is, having spoken to a remarkable friendly, eloquent, funny, determined and energetic (in speech, at least) young woman about all the issues on which she campaigns, he offered to do whatever he could to help.

Some months later, Emily has decided that now is a good time to go get some new lungs (I’m told they’re 2007’s must-haves) and left her LLTGL partner-in-crime Emma high-and-dry staring down the barrel of a show in 6 weeks time with a whole range of “To Do’s” still “To Be Done”.

So, shining my armour and mounting my steed (yes, my steed!), I fired off an email to Emma gallantly offering my services as Production Manager extraordinaire to fill any gaps she may have.

Now, there must have been some sort of mis-communication here, because Emma and her wonderful, throw-your-hand-in, get-stuck-in, jump-in-the-deep-end husband Brad seem to have developed the mistaken impression that I was actually offering to help them out and do some work.

Clearly, they don’t know me well enough to know that when I offer to help it’s nothing but an empty gesture and what I really mean is I’ll be happy to sit on my rump in bed at home and watch Bill Bailey DVDs and tell people how funny he is.

Still, being the awfully polite person I am, I suddenly felt like it would be terribly improper of me to point out their error, so it looks like I’m on board…

I really don’t know how I get myself into these fixes, but now I’m here, I supposed I’ll just make a fist of it and see what I can’t do to make things run a little smoothly.

Right now there’s all sorts of bits and pieces remaining to be organised, including nailing down who exactly is going to be on the bill.  Through Bill Bailey’s management we’ve aquired a strong line-up of fresh comedians willing to entertain the masses, and we’re still hopeful of getting a few last gasp names to pop along too.

I’ve got my list of To Do’s passed down and am liasing with the venue and management about technical requirements and other such things, as well as sticking my oar in wherever I see opportunity.

It’s looking like it’s going to be a really good evening and, more importantly, is going to go a good way to helping support the LLTGL campaign’s current objectives – of which more at a later date.

Tickets should be on sale within the next week or so and I’ll post with details as soon as they are, but for now if you’re in, around or fancy going to the Mermaid Theatre for a cracking night of stand-up, book out 4th March in your diary and watch this space!