More Crisis

Well, I did my night shift at Crisis Open Christmas. I have to say first: most of the people there were doing several nights. My "one night stand" there hardly counts. I am a lightweight. . . .

A brief introduction to "Centre 3 nightshift":
The building was organised into five floors, broadly speaking:
Ground - gatekeeping and stores
1 - food
2 - television
3 - quiet sleeping
4 - volunteers private area.

It was run by three "Green badges", Matthew James and Karen, with a kitchen crew, a small Red Cross team of four, and about fifty volunteers ranging from highly experienced all the way down to me (first night). There were 164 "guests" that night.
The Green badge people have a system -- they've done this many times before -- and as far as I can see it works. I always had the feeling that the person telling me what to do wasn't just making it up there and then. One part of the system is safety in numbers: never be out of sight of other volunteers, always move around the building in pairs, and so on.

Most of the work really consisted of watching and listening to guests.
I spent a while in the sleeping section at the start handing out pillows and blankets as people arrived, and negotiating with people who were asking politely / demanding / just taking extra pillows (of which we were a bit short). Then I spent about 4 hours on trying to keep the marble floor in the gents from getting too wet and slippery, and listening to some of the more talkative guests who seemed to gather in the main corridor outside the toilets. Then a couple of hours sitting in the warm, dark, television area struggling to keep awake by watching a Jackie Chan movie and drinking coffee. And then a very bracing time on the gate (i.e. out in the street) watching the sun come up, checking people in and out as they went for their tobacco or alcohol fixes (not allowed in the building).

A few things I find worthy of remark. First, it's another example of the big difference between being given instructions on what to do and not to do, and actually being able to act on them. Only when you "get" things instinctively (rather than just "understand") do they really work. It's like driving a car in that respect, or lots of other things. There were several times I found myself starting automatically to do exactly the thing they'd warned us not to do... for example, if some conflict starts to develop, acting like an audience. I understood not to do that, but didn't get it at first.

It's also interesting how people sleep. A lot of people preferred to sleep in the brightly lit corridors where people were moving around, or in the TV area (fairly dimly lit but noisy and lots of movement) rather than in the quiet dark sleeping area. I can see why. If I'd been going to sleep, I'd have chosen the TV area every time.

The moral of the story, if there is one, is that it brings home the lesson that we are not so different from them. The guests get clean clothes when they arrive, the volunteers dress in their rough clothes, and from that point on, you can only tell them apart by the badges and wristbands. If we took our badges off and drank a couple of pints, you might find it hard to distinguish. It's a lesson I can understand, but, again, need to get.

I'd recommend it as an experience. If you want to be cynical, it looks good on the CV, and you can make good networking contacts. (One volunteer was pumping me for information about a job at my company). And relationships spring up between the volunteers -- couples form.
Teamwork and camaraderie, all that sort of stuff. People come back year after year, which says a lot.

It's possible I shall do more nights next year.

Christmas dinner

Last night we had "our" dinner here, the kids and I, six in all, with soup, turkey, bacon rolls, sausages, bread sauce, stuffing, and cranberry jelly; also potatoes carrots sprouts broccoli and parsnips, and PouillyFumé.

There was an initial panic when I discovered that my fridge had somehow gone into overdrive and frozen the lower half of my (fresh) turkey absolutely solid. Fortunately it wasn't the breast. Emergency defrosting was called for, and dinner was delayed an hour. I was somewhat stressed. But it turned out nicely.

People tell me that family Christmas dinners are a prime source of conflict, arguments, fallings out. Or hours of unappreciated kitchen slavery. Or hours of comatose slumping in front of the telly. I suppose if that's what you expect, that's what you get. That's not the experience I had. My companions were a total delight to be with.

Cough

I've still got this blasted cough/cold.

I first came down with it on 16th November.
That's over a month I've been snotty.

Crisis

I spent a day helping with the setup of a building for Crisis Open Christmas. This is a charity that helps the homeless, providing, for a week over Christmas, not just a roof, a bed, and three hot meals a day, but also medical care, legal advice, a decent haircut, job advice, IT access, and just ... listening ...

This was set-up: the centre wasn't yet open. It was due to open in three days time. Things were being delivered. The building, an empty office block, was being remodelled in lightning quick time into a hostel, by a team of carpenters, painters, plumbers, and general volunteers. Everything was chaos.

It was a bit like being in an online game.
>>>>>
You are at the front doors. The front doors will not open. You do not have the key card.
You go to the loading dock. The loading dock doors are broken but can be opened. There are CCTV screens here and power saws and walkie talkies.
A shipment has arrived. There are industrial sized cookers. Your task for this round is to get these from the loading dock on the ground floor to the cooking area on the first floor. You cannot get them up the steps.
There are two large cargo lifts down to the basement. You cannot get the first one to work.
The second one is blocked by a parked car. The keys are in the car.
Solution: push the car into the second lift, take it to the basement and lose it there.
Then push the cookers into the lift, take them to the basement, then roll them to another smaller lift which goes to the first floor.
But the blasted carpenter has already constructed plywood walls around what will be the "kitchen" and you cannot get the cookers in.
You are on the first floor. There are crates of books and cups of tea and protective gloves and sheets of coloured plastic and duct tape and power tools and chairs here.
You may need some of these things later...

Three pallets of ancient computers have arrived. The fork lift for moving the pallets cannot get them into the smaller lift. You have to unpack them and carry them one by one...

And so on...
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

It was quite fun actually, making some of it up as we went along. I spent half an hour moving steel dexion library shelving from one place to another ... and the guy carrying the other end of the shelves with me was Chris Martin from Coldplay. He's a regular Crisis supporter. Not that I am a fan of Coldplay, but even so....

I hope the guests like it. I'm hoping to see it all in action at one point, if I can get there, maybe on 28th.

The Thin Man

I've written before about weight loss, and how I think one of the main keys is to normalise one's relationship with food; to make it less "loaded". I say this, not because I think I've achieved it -- I still have far to go -- but because I can see that that relationship is the thing that makes the most difference. All the difference, maybe.

The other day, two people said to each other, in front of me and about me, "how does he stay so thin?" and "it's all the running he does". I didn't argue; It would have been rude. Actually, I had just lost a few pounds in the couple of weeks before that, and I lost it because I was running less, because I'd had a nasty cough and cold. But you can't tell people that. Exercise is a wonderful thing, it makes you feel good, it makes you healthier, and it can help with weight loss. But the more I run, the harder it is to lose weight. I've had several times of lots of running, and several times of significant weight loss, and the two have never coincided.

Yesterday I was at a work Christmas lunch with the engineering team. I was doing well. I had one drink and then stopped, because I had to drive. There were bread rolls on the table. I didn't automatically eat mine just because it was there and it was mine. I decided I didn't want it. That's big.

But opposite me was Steve, a man who, as it happens, I greatly admire, and who is also an archetypal "thin man". And I suddenly realised that, when the waiters were bringing the starters, and again when they were bringing the main courses, and asking "who was having the turkey" and so on, Steve wasn't noticing when they were handing out the thing he'd ordered. He was sitting with an empty space in front of him; he'd ordered turkey (let's say); the waiter was standing right behind him with the last plate of turkey looking around and shouting "who else was having turkey?" -- and he wasn't noticing. I've never in my life done that. I couldn't not be aware of it. Amazing.

I've managed, usually, to let go of constant thoughts about how soon they'll serve it, whether mine will come first or last, whether the plateful will be enough, and so on. But I am still keeping an eye on the waiters and the food. If I've ordered soup, and the waiters are saying "who was for soup", I am going to notice. For Steve to sit there like that, genuinely unaware, and for people to have to nudge him and say "is that yours", is such a deep reminder of the difference between the thin mind and my mind. I have far to go before I'll ever need nudging and having it pointed out to me that my plateful has arrived.

Gaudy Night

My college feast (the Boar's Head Gaudy) was yesterday evening. The story is that the feast originates from an incident when a scholar was attacked by a wild boar in the woods, and successfully defended himself by thrusting a copy of the works of Aristotle (in Greek) into its jaws.

Lots of ceremony in Latin, passing of silver cups around, sounding of trumpets, handing out of sprigs of rosemary and bay, and a Boar's Head on a platter brought in by a small choir singing. I was seated with mathematicians, including my old tutor, still there, and a don on my left whose speciality was history of maths in the seventeenth century -- which basically means Newton plus a bunch of other ones nobody has heard of. She had some interesting comments about Newton's attempts to work out the chronology of the Old Testament.

The menu (vegetarians look away now) was

• champagne in the library to start
  
• parma ham with figs and stilton - with a very good white wine (Les Gravieres 1er cru)
  
• venison - with a very good red wine (Gigondas)
  
• a sort of praline mousse with armagnac
• savoury - a slice of wild boar
• dessert: fruit nuts biscuits and chocolate - with port and/or claret (Warre, Pauillac)
  
• then drinks in the common room (whisky)

I am sorry to have to report that I was very sick afterwards, and again the next morning. I attempted breakfast, but couldn't retain it. My stomach was closed for refurbishment until about 3pm today.

The two old friends I'd most have liked to see weren't there, unfortunately, but several others were, and we had some good conversation remembering old times. (Apparently the place admits women nowadays....)

Oh well

I had a polite "no" from the band I auditioned with.

Never mind.

Another audition

I had a session with another band last night. I used it as an excuse to go out and buy a 180W amplifier. Just as well, really, I'd have been totally inaudible without it. (Even 180W is a "small" one).

It wasn't called an audition; they just said come along and play, we'll have some fun, see how it goes -- but they were going to decide on the basis of it whether to recruit me.

It was slightly farcical, because the guy had sent me a list of songs they know, of which I picked about six to work on. Most of those, when I mentioned them, they said "we don't do that one any more". Aargh! One ("Every breath you take") they were just learning, but in a different key, which totally messed up the chords I'd practised. I'm not smart enough to transpose on the fly. Having learned it in a different key was worse than not knowing it at all. So I was left with one easy thing I'd really played before (Teenage Kicks) and one I half knew (Status Quo, Whatever You Want, easy except very complicated middle section). Most of my preparation was wasted.

Anyway, in the end I just joined in on things, sight-reading from their sheets (chord letters written above the lyrics) and generally playing simple root notes. It seemed to go OK. We played a lot of things I know, but hadn't played before, like Honky-Tonk Woman, Brown Sugar, Get It On, Summer of 69, Whisky In The Jar (Thin Lizzy?), You Really Got Me (the Kinks), Paranoid . . . can't remember the rest. It was a real blast! I have no idea if they'll want me, but I was quite pleased with what I managed to do in the circumstances, and had a very enjoyable hour and a quarter. It's all good experience.

Oddly enough, though, the high point, in a way, of the evening, was this: before the audition, I'd booked a quick "emergency" lesson with Al to get me in the mood, and he was talking me through the use of my brand new amplifier. Just play Money, he said, and watch and listen to the effect while I adjust these different tone controls. So I did that, hearing the effect as he turned various strange effects on and off. And then I realised I'd just played Money (off Dark Side of the Moon) without once looking at the guitar. I didn't know I could do that!
I'd have bet, err, money that I couldn't....

Villandry

Our Project Manager took us out for a small celebratory lunch today, at a place called Villandry in Great Portland Street that seemed to be a combination of shop and restaurant.

I started with fish soup with rouille, which was good, and plenty of it. (Apparently rouille is french for rust; it's a sort of reddish chili and garlic flavoured mayonnaise.) Other people had globe artichokes.

My main course was lamb with butter beans. The alternative was salmon. They served fresh green beans and carrots; also chips, which didn't seem to go well with either meal. Then I had cheese, which was a bit disappointing for a place with pretensions, nothing unusual. And I had a bottle of Petit Chablis along with it, which helped.

It was quite pricy for what it was, I have to say. I guess it's the kind of place designed for what we were doing: lunch on expenses, emphasis on good service rather than on the food itself.

The rest of the weekend workshop

A few more things to say about the weekend workshop.

First, the venue, which I really liked. It was the London Buddhist Arts Centre in Bethnal Green, clearly a low-budget location, but well looked after. A tatty old building in a rough part of town, heavily used. The kitchen made me want to cook, even though the plates and mugs were a random assortment. It was just a good place.

Saturday and Sunday had a lot of dancing, just "to get into our bodies". Dancing works fairly well as a set-up for acting, because, after a certain amount of time (say half an hour), you just have to let go of "what this will look like to other people". All the "this will look cool" or "this must look rubbish" or "I'll clown" or "I'll be very unobtrusive and stay in this corner" or "doing it correctly" stuff has to get worn off. Most of the dancing was with another person, changing partners frequently.

There was a more explicit exercise about receiving attention: this consisted of dancing while being watched intently by someone else (who was not dancing, just watching) and getting used to it, by a variety of manoeuvres.

Then the main exercises were about just "following your instinct". Again, no specific process was taught for this, just practice. For example: take a fairly random prop or item of clothing, spend a few minutes getting used to the prop, and who you might be with it, and then in pairs, improvise a little scene, doing whatever comes to mind. No words, no dancing, no interacting with other pairs, no changing who you are (or what the prop is) half way through, go with your instinct... Act as if it's not personal, but act as if it matters.

I'm guessing (though I've never done it) this is all pretty standard fare for beginners theatre workshops. And I'm also guessing it's many people's idea of their worst nightmare. Mine included. But after a while, it started to work. The useful thing, for me, was just learning to trust that something will come. And, to be specific, how it comes: which is not as an idea (like we'll pretend to be fighting over this thing) but as a physical movement (I feel the urge to step in this direction, or to fold my arms, or touch his face, or whatever).

It's pretty good advice for many things in life that involve interacting with others: don't worry about doing it right, or impressing people, don't try to stick to a preconceived script as to how it has to go; just notice what your body wants to do.

Five Rhythms Friday night

At the session last night, we warmed up with an hour of "The Wave", which means dancing through the sequence of five different rhythms. There was music on in the room, and, as we turned up, we just went in and started moving to the music, no instructions given, no introductions.

Then we started to do a series of exercises, of which I'll describe just two.

One was: form up into pairs, and take it in turns to introduce yourself to the other person, saying your name, how you came to be doing this weekend, and what you want to get out of it. After we'd done that, the next instruction was, take the intention you've just told the other person, hold it in mind, and allow a small repetitive movement to occur, that holds that intention for you. Just whatever comes to mind. So then after we're all jiggling in some way, he says make the movement bigger, expand it, allow your whole body to participate. And then, out of the repetition of it, take one cycle, make it into a single action.

I like the idea of starting with a repetitive movement, and then trimming it down to a single movement. So many people would have done the other way: find a movement or gesture that holds the intention, and then do it repetitively. This way works much better, rhythmic movement first, then down to a single action.

And then (going round the room), as an intention ritual, demonstrate your action, and name your intention in a word or short phrase for us all.

And then, pick (in your mind) one specific other person in the room, and (going round the room again) show us the action and name the intention, this time in one word, and this time, to (and for) the one specific other person. I like that too, as a way of building "other" into it. I'd say all of that is very Mytho-like.

Where it falls short of what I'd expect from an excellent Mytho facilitator is the setup. For people to do all this successfully, they need to be in the right state. The setup has been "the wave" -- an hour or so of dancing. It works fairly well, but 2 or 3 of the people there are not in the right state, and are not able successfully to form an intention, translate it into a physical movement, and name it.

The other interesting exercise was "being danced" by someone else, that is, letting them guide and move your limbs, to music. It was very cool, both doing it and having it done to. As the recipient, I tended to close my eyes, try to "listen" to the hands guiding me, and dance. That was quite trancey. The person I was doing it to danced rather less; they wouldn't move their feet. They just kind of went fairly rag doll limp, so I started swaying them, taking their weight with my hip, which is itself a trance induction I've used before, and also did some "ambiguous touch" on their arms and wrists. As far as I could tell, they were more or less instantly gone. I resisted the temptation to do as I would under other circumstances (lower them to the floor and start giving them deepening suggestions. . . . )

Teachers

I'm writing this on the train, on my way up to London for the Saturday of the Five Rhythms "Holy Actor" workshop. It started last night, going from 7 to about 10:30. I'll post another blog about what we did in a minute.

But first, I feel the urge to expand on my previous remark about how I came to be doing this particular workshop: namely, that I liked the teacher.

I find it's often like that for me. Thinking about Mytho, or Five Rhythms, or bass guitar for that matter, or the choir certainly … I had a taster of each of those, one session to see what it was like, and really, the important factor in every case was not so much liking the thing as the feeling that it would be good to work with that teacher.

Teachers often disapprove of this. You're supposed to get the thing, not worship the teacher. But I'm not talking about worship, or even liking them as a person, or agreeing with them about everything. Where it gets tacky is if people start adopting the teacher's clothing style or verbal mannerisms or political views.

The teachers I've mentioned above (bass, Mytho, 5R, choir) -- I like them as teachers, feel their commitment to their subject and to handing it on, and feel their ability to do so. If I didn't feel that, it would be hard to keep turning up trying to learn something, whereas when it is there, it's worth making a journey for.

Michael Nyman

Karen and I went to a Michael Nyman concert last night.

Nyman hovers between pop and serious in an interesting way. He has performers who have music on stands, playing violins, flutes, piano, trombone etc, and who bow at the end. They don't come back to do a few more numbers if you go on clapping at the end. They play sitting down. He conducts. On the other hand, they play short "tracks" and people clap at the end of each one (like a pop concert) and not just at the end of the overall "piece". And he had some video in the background. The music itself has a serious sound because of the instruments used, but in terms of form, is probably more like prog rock. A lot of his stuff has been used for film music (e.g. The Draughtsman's Contract). I like it, anyway, and I had a good time, but wasn't sure if I was having a "pop concert" good time or an "orchestral" good time.

One part of the concert was music he wrote for the film Drowning By Numbers, based on Mozart. Then there was 50,000 Pairs Of Feet Can't Be Wrong, inspired by the Great North Run, with video.

And then finally, a setting of I Sonetti Lussuriosi: some very rude sonnets written in 1527 or so, to accompany some engraved drawings illustrating different sexual positions. Ancient porn. It was quite bizzarre, a soprano, singing in italian, in a very posh operatic style, words which translate as "what a hard **** you've got" and "help me back up on the bed, my head's hanging over the edge" etc. (A translation was available at the box office for those who cared to ask for it.) Apparently the Pope was most offended. In 1527.

Provisional Diary

Thurs 6th Dec -- Michael Nyman concert in London; stop over with Karen

7th to 9th -- Five Rhythms workshop after work Friday, and continues all weekend

Tues 11th -- "Chariots" choir concert 8pm United Reform Church

Fri 14th -- choir singing near ice rink 8pm

Sat 15th -- dinner and stay overnight at college in Oxford

Sun 16th -- visit Souldern

Tues 18th -- possible try-out with new band! Oo er

Weds 19th -- working in Staines, team Xmas lunch, also maybe buy the turkey

Thu/Fri 20 and 21st -- two days off with Karen

Sat 22nd -- final Xmas shopping and family turkey dinner in evening

Mon 24th -- to Histon

Acting the part

This weekend, I am attending a workshop based on the Five Rhythms Dance. I booked it up ages ago, and the reason I wanted to do it is that I worked before with the man who's teaching it, and I liked him. Feeling that you can get on with the teacher is more important than whatever the blurb says about the class and what it's for.

Or so I thought at the time ... as the class draws nearer, I am reminded that it has "acting" in the title ... what has that got to do with the five rhythms of expressing ourselves through bodily movement? Search me.... I'm hoping it'll be fun, interesting, and enlightening. As it gets closer, "what will it be about" starts to seem more important ...

... because when I get the "joining instructions", they say "bring two items of costume and two props". Aargh. And I'm going there after work today.

So I have been transformed into my first role. If you've ever commuted, you'll recognise this fellow: Man on busy commuter train festooned with large amounts of annoying luggage."
We all know him, we all hate him. But I have to carry spare clothes and loose clothes for dancing and props and extra costume items.

Normally I am efficient supercommuterman, who knows which doors to stand opposite. Now I am man with annoying luggage, I have to beg the tube staff to let me through the special gates for the incompetent. I wish I could carry a sign saying "I am a proper commuter really, honestly!" I make a point of showing my season ticket.

On the train, my bad karma means that the person who comes and sits next to me is annoying girl with a cold who doesn't have a hanky. Snurrrrff every two seconds for an hour. I played a similar part myself a couple of weeks ago (man with a cold and lots of really disgusting hankies he keeps waving around).

I shall report back on the workshop in due course.

Yours sincerely, man who thinks his blog is fascinating

Teddy Bear

Okay, I know, there must be thousands of people blogging about this one... (teacher "could be" flogged for naming a teddy bear Mohammed) . And I hear tonight that the teacher has been given a pardon and flown back to Blighty ....

Over the last few days, I've talked to two people who had been there: one was a chap who specialises in plants for deserts and dry climates, who'd been to Khartoum, and expressed the view that the "protests" were probably set up by someone who wanted to get the school in question closed down, because it's a valuable piece of real estate in Khartoum. I have no idea if this is true.

The other person was a friend who's half Sudanese, who'd actually attended that school (Moo, for those who know her) and she said when she was there, they had had a Christian nativity play and everything .... apparently this radical Muslim sensitivity is quite recent ...

So what do you think? Pick one :-

• (A) It's outrageous, it's a barbaric regime, rape victims getting punished, etc etc, how can naming a teddy bear be wrong? She didn't intend offence. "If it's not wrong here, how can it be wrong there" as one poster on RW said.

or

• (B) If you go to a foreign country to hold a responsible job like teaching young children, it behoves you to know and follow their laws and customs, whatever they are. If you think the laws are wrong, don't go there. We expect people who come here to follow ours.
  

or

• (C) Something else? Email me

(I have no time for the defence that "the children named it, not her". As a teacher, she is responsible for what they do with her permission while in her class. )

It seems to me that I can see a lot in a culture declaring something to be sacred, whatever it is. If they've decided that the name Mohammed will mean something, and you won't take it lightly ... I kind of like that. I think some things should have significance. I can see how they look at our western culture where nothing means anything, and think we've lost the plot.

As to their choice of punishment, that's another matter. In this case, it seemed too severe.

I think the question of whether public corporal punishment is more or less humane than imprisonment is an interesting one though. And that's not just a question of which seems more severe -- punishments are after all meant to be severe in some cases. It's about "how can we publicly show our disapproval of someone without criminalising them further" ... a tricky concept ... and I'm not sure which has a worse effect on someone, a public flogging, or forcing them to do nothing for a long time and be around other criminals. Lots of people say "corporal punishment -- inhumane -- we're just not having that" which I can understand ... but aren't our prisons just as inhumane?

April Fool

On Karen's copy of Schott's almanac:

• 1st April 2008: April Fools Day [except in Scotland]

Is this an "in joke" ?

The Boar's Head

As I've mentioned, my old college has a reunion feast for old members 30 years after they leave. It's the appointment I'd had written in my diary the longest in advance, ever.
And then they wrote to me saying, it was over-subscribed, so I couldn't come.

WTF? Don't they know how many old members they have?
And they had 30 years to prepare themselves....
I was shocked. I've never heard of such a thing.

So anyway, I've had another letter from them, on much nicer paper, saying they've discovered it's all OK, and I can come after all. Goody.

Strangely, the first (you can't come) letter was from the person in charge of organising the feast, whereas the second (you can) letter was from the man in charge of fund-raising from old members of the college. I can't think why.

Luton

I did the Luton relay marathon as advertised.

It was 8.73 miles, high winds, plus occasional rain.
When it rained, the rain stung.
One of the least enjoyable races I've ever done.
I got round in 85 mins.

This, however, was balanced out by a great social afterwards.
About, oh, twenty of us, in a pub in Luton, having started drinking
hard at 5pm. I left at about 9:30 when it was going rapidly downhill.

I met lots of people I knew, and also several new ones that I'd
wanted to meet for a long time, including the man who set it up.