Thursday 22 December 2016

ART: My Stroke Journey

Art gave Billy Mann a chance to tell the story of his stroke in an unusual and often graphic way

My annual visit to the National Hospital of Neurology and Neurosurgery in Queen Square, London, to deliver some macaroons and Vin Santo to the therapy team for Christmas got me feeling sentimental. I realised that visiting the Neuro Rehabilitation Unit (NRU) on the second floor has become like returning to your old school. Memories come flooding back. Seeing the patients travelling the same rocky road I did four years ago is a wrench, riddled with pain but saved by an overwhelming sense of hope. So much happened here for me. It is where my life was put back together. It was a rebirth. So, as naff as that sounds, I feel quite attached to the place and to the people who helped me during my two-month stay. 

Most of them have moved on, but Anne Fleming, who dealt with social work issues, was still there and full of good spirit and a still unfeasibly straight fringe. I deposited the festive goodies with her, asked her to pass on my best wishes to anyone who might remember me and put in a plug for an exhibition of paintings by survivors of brain injury from Headway East London art studio, Submit To Love

It wasn't such a shameless plug since I have a series of five paintings included in the exhibition depicting my 'stroke journey', and as already stated, NRU played a key part in that. Each of my paintings includes a hand-written paragraph describing the five 'chapters' of the past four years, from the moment of the stroke to my life as it is today.

The first, 'Surrender' attempts to illustrate the period from the initial trauma to when I went into surgery.

Surrender

The second picture, 'Oblivion', is all about what happened in surgery.

Oblivion

The third, 'Confusion', examines what happened after surgery when I was in and out of ITU and then on the stroke ward.

Confusion

The fourth painting in the series, 'Survival', covers the sink-or-swim experience of my stay in NRU, where the chance to start again kicks into action.

Survival


And the final picture, 'Release', reflects of my life since discharge from hospital in February 2013 and the shape it has taken since then.

Release

I could bang on endlessly about these pictures and their meaning, but the blunt truth is that, once they were finished, I was glad to see the back of them. I was bored with myself, and right now I don't care if I never see them again. Sometimes the right thing to do is to simply let go of what was and what happened. Strange, though, I can't imagine losing the tiny bit of love I feel whenever I visit the National hospital in Queen Square, and long may the macaroon continue to be delivered.

The exhibition of paintings by members of Headway East London is at Stratford Circus Arts Centre, London, until 23 February 2017.


Friday 9 December 2016

NEWS: Theresa and Boris

Local: Meet your Councillors

Somebody said something interesting, eventually

Subject Councillors answer residents' questions
Date Tuesday 29 November, 2016, 19.30h
Location Downstairs, beneath the chess players, Golden Lane Estate community centre

Stanley Cohen House with its Grade II-listed "plastic bags"

Alderman Graves (he is the Big Hat in the posse of our Elected Representatives) began by asking how news of this meeting got around the estate. Did we hear about it via email, paper mail or by some other route such as noticeboards? He soon got the message that things could be improved in that regard before Lee Millam (Great Arthur House) stepped in with an urgent moan about the workmen doing the windows at Great Arthur. 

What were they playing at? Nothing, seemed to be the answer. Drinking tea, rolling fags, discussing whether the universe was infinite or not. Anything but fixing the bloody windows. The Alderman started to take on the ruddy complexion of a man who'd just realised that leaving his new golf clubs in the E-type was probably not such a good idea. One of the other councillors (a lone woman among six men) said something along the lines of "we hear what you're saying", which I'm not sure was the answer Mr Millam was looking for.

The subject moved on in a roundabout way to social housing, right-to-buy, who pays for what, how the housing stock is protected from predatory speculators in the age of Materialism Gone Mad, and the thorny issue of numbers of properties built versus the location of said properties. 

Roughly speaking, at the core of this is whether, for the same money, to build 100 new residential properties in the centre of Cripplegate, or else to build 300 dwellings four miles outside of it. These are the Big Questions those at the Corpy agonise over every minute of their lives, and especially during toilet breaks. Add into this equation a heavy shot of central-government busy-bodying and it's headaches all round. 

Councillor Gareth Moore (he's our guy off the estate) raised some characteristically realist points and explained that it is in the DNA of the Corpy to skew all decision-making towards business and commerce (my words), and that the planning protocols that apply for commercial projects differ entirely from those that apply to residential stuff. My understanding from what he said was that the Planning Committee on the council was overegged with expertise in the commercial field, but very light on expertise in the residential area. This has resulted in no end of bureaucratic constipation for residential matters, but was now being corrected by someone new in charge of things.

Then came an interesting bit, and it came from Alderman Graves, who was by now warming to the occasion and looking a little less likely to burst a blood vessel. It was triggered by Paul Lincoln (Basterfield House), who said that Barbican residents have special status within the Corpy - their very own committee - whereas Golden Lane is some kind of poor relation, forever in receipt of second-hand clothes. Gravesie, as I was now calling him (to myself), put on his 'thinking-cap' face and said that the way forward might be to start up a Golden Lane Working Party. To my ears this sounded like progress, and even the other assembled councillors (who all sit in a row, looking as if they are waiting to be called into the head teacher's office) showed signs of resurrection.

The Aderman's suggestion was not an opportunity to be missed, and after a brief diversion into drains, insurance and a potent question from myself about the poor lighting around the estate, Sue Pearson (Hatfield House) whose middle name is Persistence, raised her hand. Were the assembled officers aware of the newfound love affair between Golden Lane residents and the Corpy, instigated by projects such as the redevelopment of the community centre, the Lord Mayor's float and an overall softening of behavioural tones. After a massive whinge about the "plastic bags" still stuck on the end of Stanley Cohen House, she spoke about evolving plans to find a robust yet sustainable management model for when the community centre is refurbed and reopened. Magically, she screwed a pledge of support from each of the honourable members of Death Row and everybody skipped off home to watch Jordan Banjo getting evicted from I'm a Celebrity...Get Me Out of Here!

Happy days.

Sunday 20 November 2016

At Renal Outpatients

Conversations about kidneys are a speciality for Billy Mann


My face must look like it needs a good talking to. Every six months or so I attend a regular outpatients appointment at the Royal London hospital in Whitechapel to monitor the state of my kidneys. I suffer from a hereditary condition that, left unchecked, might result in kidney stones. Passing a kidney stone is not something I would wish on my worst enemy. 

In the waiting room at my most recent appointment a man sitting nearby started asking me questions about his kidney and fished for information about mine. Cheeky bastard, I thought. He wanted to know if I was in line for a transplant, because he was sure as hell he was. He started talking about the different signs of kidney damage and their intensity  I told him that right now I am able to manage my kidney difficulties by drinking lots of water. Two to three litres a day. He seemed unimpressed. "I don't like water," he said. I replied: "Any fluids will do. You can drink beer if you want." Then I realised that this man was almost certainly Muslim. Dohh!!!

'He was determined to believe his 
own kidney condition was serious'

Riven with guilt, I moved the conversation on quickly. I started to mutter something about the miracles of modern medication but he was determined to believe his own kidney condition was serious and that death was but one more visit to the urinal away. I struggled on, trying to convince him that the doctors knew what they were doing and things are rarely as bad as you think they are. But he already sold himself the idea that his predicament was drastic and that he would require a transplant. I opened my mouth, took a breath and was about to tell him that it is quite feasible to live a full and meaningful life with just one kidney, when his consultant arrived and took him off for the designated appointment. My face must have looked like it had made a narrow escape.

Sunday 18 September 2016

Quote: Gladstone

"Gladstone quit his fourth premiership on a point of principle in 1894, aged 84, impatient, indignant, and half blinded by a ginger biscuit thrown at him by an angry woman during a rally in Chester."
Tom Crewe, London Review of Books, 22.09.2016

Tuesday 19 July 2016

Richard Hoggart

I sometimes think that Richard Hoggart's The Uses of Literacy was his way of trying to understand himself.

Tuesday 8 March 2016

Book: Postcapitalism, by Paul Mason


Review: Gillian Tett
If you hear the word “Wikipedia”, what springs to mind? For most of us, the answer is probably “useful information”. After all, in the decade since Wikipedia appeared, it has become such a mainstay of modern life that it is hard to imagine how anyone ever did their homework or research without it.
But for Paul Mason, a prominent British economics journalist, the online encyclopedia is not just a handy intellectual resource; it also symbolises a world on the verge of a revolution. For Mason believes that after two centuries in which capitalism has dominated the western world, this economic system has become desperately dysfunctional: inequality is growing, climate change is accelerating and nations are beset with bad demographics, debt burdens and angry voters.

But unlike many critics of capitalism, Mason — economics editor at Channel 4 News and a Guardian columnist — is not beset with despair; he thinks that if we could only harness some of the revolutionary ideas that Wikipedia embodies, we could overturn the capitalist system in a way that is as dramatic as anything proposed by Karl Marx, and perhaps more effective, too. Indeed, to him Wikipedia epitomises a potentially brave new postcapitalist world. “Capitalism is a complex, adaptive system which has reached the limits of its capacity to adapt,” he thunders. “Once capitalism can no longer adapt to technological change, postcapitalism becomes necessary.”

Some readers may scoff at this. Others may stifle a yawn. There is nothing new in such leftwing critiques, after all, and though Mason makes his case with passion — he does not hide his contempt for the global elite — the writing is sometimes infused with such anger that it feels irritatingly shrill.

But even if you love the current capitalist system, it would be a mistake to ignore the book. For Mason weaves together varied intellectual threads to produce a fascinating set of ideas. At times, the text is unnervingly dense; Mason has done extensive research. But the thesis about “postcapitalism” deserves a wide readership among right and left alike.
His starting point is an assertion that the current technological revolution has at least three big implications for modern economies. First, “information technology has reduced the need for work” — or, more accurately, for all humans to be workers. For automation is now replacing jobs at a startling speed; indeed, a 2013 report by the Oxford Martin school estimated that half the jobs in the US are at high risk of vanishing within a decade or two.

The second key point about the IT revolution, Mason argues, is that “information goods are corroding the market’s ability to form prices correctly”. For the key point about cyber-information is that it can be replicated endlessly, for free; there is no constraint on how many times we can copy and paste a Wikipedia page. “Until we had shareable information goods, the basic law of economics was that everything is scarce. Supply and demand assumes scarcity. Now certain goods are not scarce, they are abundant.”
 
But third, “goods, services and organisations are appearing that no longer respond to the dictates of the market and the managerial hierarchy”. More specifically, people are collaborating in a manner that does not always make sense to traditional economists, who are used to assuming that humans act in self-interest and price things according to supply and demand. “The biggest information product in the world — Wikipedia — is made by 27,000 volunteers, for free,” he observes. “If it were run as a commercial site, Wikipedia’s revenue could be $2.8bn a year. Yet Wikipedia makes no profit. And in doing so it makes it almost impossible for anybody else to make a profit in the same space.”

This has radical consequences for anybody who dislikes the current western capitalist system, Mason says. Hitherto, revolutions have usually occurred when workers have united against elites. But Mason thinks this is outdated. “The old left’s aim was the forced destruction of market mechanisms . . . by the working class [and] the lever would be the state,” he observes. “[But] over the past twenty-five years, it is the left’s project that has collapsed.”
Instead, Mason thinks that it is time to recognise that technology has turned us all into individualists — but connected us by networks in unusually powerful ways. And he wants to use the power of millions of individuals to build a more equal and just world that is no longer dominated by a “neoliberalism [that] is the doctrine of uncontrolled markets”. More specifically, Mason thinks — or hopes — that a postcapitalist world is a place where only part of the population will work for cash, on a quasi-voluntary basis; the rest will be pursuing non-monetary goals. He wants governments to provide a guaranteed income for the entire population and free (or low-cost) basic services and public infrastructure. He also wants companies to automate as many processes as they can (rather than relying on cheap labour) and central bankers to conduct financial repression to reduce national debt.

Mason’s vision for the future, in other words, is a world where the government provides the framework to enable individuals to flourish but state functions are handed over to citizens. It is a place where people are secure — and equal — enough to use the efficiencies unleashed by automation to pursue worthy goals, such as volunteering to write Wikipedia pages.
It sounds utopian. And Mason does not attempt to describe in any detail exactly how western society might achieve this new postcapitalist world. Nor does he address the issue that tends to preoccupy many unions and leftwing groups today, namely the fact that technology is currently turning many workers into the equivalent of insecure digital sharecroppers, rather than collaborative creative spirits. Just look at the current fights around Uber, and the lack of security for workers there.

But while Mason’s ideas might seem crazily idealistic, they are thought-provoking. And it is worth remembering that the concept of Wikipedia would have once seemed crazy, too. So perhaps the key message from the book is this: in a world of rapid technological change, we need to rethink our old assumptions about “left” and “right”; cyberspace is ripping up many ideas about the government and class system. Politicians of all stripes should take note. And so should the people who vote for them.

Monday 7 March 2016

Monday 1 February 2016

Film: Spotlight

I wonder what this kind of film will look like in the future. Reminiscent of All the President's Men.

Monday 25 January 2016

First Person: The Day My Brain Downed Tools

As featured in Guardian Witness, 19.01.16, as part of the Guardian's This is the NHS series


It was one of those days. I was waiting for my line manager to make a decision they were not going to make anytime soon, so I sat down in a quiet corner of a very large office to eat some lunch. Halfway into the second sandwich, a buzzing sound came to my right ear. It was very annoying. Then my vision became blurred. I felt sick. I tried to stand up but the left side of my body wouldn’t cooperate. My left arm flailed around helplessly. My left leg had no strength whatsoever. The buzzing noise in my ear was now a horrible grinding sound. I was having a stroke. Somehow I managed to attract someone’s attention and outline my predicament. Then I was sick in a green recycling bin. Paramedics arrived and I was whisked to A&E, whereupon I was diagnosed as having suffered a stroke. Long story a bit shorter, I had two lots of emergency brain surgery, spent three weeks in intensive care and was finally admitted to a stroke ward, where I then got floored by pneumonia. 
Other complications followed (my brain became 'soggy') which delayed the start of physiotherapy and occupational therapy that would normally begin quite soon after stroke trauma, but eventually I became a rehab patient and began the very slow process of trying to piece back together some kind of life worth living. The type of stroke I had knocked out my balance, coordination and fine motor skills. I could talk OK, but sometimes I would get muddled and forget the word that two seconds ago was on the tip of my tongue. I was given regular physio sessions in which I learned such things as how to stand from a seated position. I had occupational therapy that included washing and drying dishes. I had sessions with a social worker to determine my needs when I was discharged from hospital. I had an altercation with a psychologist who wanted me to redefine failure as learning. I never noticed any improvement at the time, but others told me I was making progress. I was in rehab for eight weeks. This is a desperate time for most patients. They want to get home, to get away from the muck they call food, to watch some proper telly. I include myself there, but something happened, something that words could never describe, that makes me feel a yearning bond for that sad hospital day room where the look of joy had clearly done a runner. I visit every year at Christmas time to deliver macaroons for the nurses and the therapy team. I look for opportunities to visit at other times too. If there is ever a day they stop me visiting I will be grief-striken. It means that much to me. This is where my old life ended and my new one began. You bet I feel sentimental about it.
It is three years now since I was discharged from hospital. In the first year I was given intense re-enablement therapy at home that involved learning anew how to do the boring stuff like walking, washing, eating with a knife and fork.  I was also admitted to a vocational rehabilitation clinic where they figured out how I might be able to plug back into the workplace (I was not able to return to full-time employment). In the second year I ‘rejoined society’ by doing some voluntary work in education. In this I was assisted by my employer (the Guardian), who behaved with great decency and compassion all the way through my ordeal. This, I discovered later, is not always the case. The third year was pretty cool. I continued with my voluntary work and found a spiritual home at Submit to Love, the art studio of the brain-injury charity Headway East London. Art has been a remarkable aid to my recovery. Very slowly, things can only get better. Scratching my ear with my left hand was once a dangerous undertaking. Now it is just a challenge. I am what I now am because of the nhs. By some process of magic, its ethic surfaces in practically every corner of my day-to-day life, and scarcely a minute goes by when my mind is not boggled by the astonishing power of the goodwill that can pass from one citizen to the next. This is the nhs.

LINK
https://witness.theguardian.com/assignment/56968e65e4b0831c476248e2/1889067

Tuesday 19 January 2016

Monday 18 January 2016

Film: Room

Gripping moment when she realises that maybe she needed him just as much as he needed her.