Thursday 24 March 2016

We Are Swailing

As I crossed the Pennines above Littleborough this morning the mist hung in the air like the steam from a pot of lapsang souchong tea. There was the aroma  of smoke in the air and when I dropped down Blackstone Edge I could see the moors alight below me.
Now, this is the season for swailing the moors, burning off the old dry, dead grass to encourage new growth. However, with no human being in attendance I suspected that it was a discarded cigarette that had caused the fire. One particular corner was well alight with nobody about with flails to put it out.
Which took me back to the last two years, around Easter time, when I had seen three black men, in gleaming white robes, walking down the very same road above the moors. It was around Easter and I know a wooden cross is erected in the hills here, so was it a Christian sect performing their Easter rites, or druids? I have never found out, but the combination of shadowy figures in flowing white robes and uncontained fire is a great start for a story!

Wednesday 23 March 2016

2016, A Spaced Oddity

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a married man in possession of a good blog, must be willing to update it.”


I've not been blogging but I have been working hard, is the amount of blog proportional to the amount of work that you are committed to?
The longest project that I have been involved with in many a year is coming to it's climax soon. Steve Cooke, the man behind All Across the Arts here in Rochdale, is responsible for getting us all together. Along with a talented bunch of poets, artists, photographers, songwriters and storytellers (why they wanted me on board I shall never know) I have been working with a group comprising asylum seekers children, young adults with mental health problems and looked after young adults. The project is called "The Stories We Could Tell" and the great thing is, they are telling their stories.
Many strike deep in the heart, they can make you feel angry or sad, or both at the same time. The good thing is that in each story, in each individual, there is hope. Sometimes that glimmer of hope is smaller than I might want it to be but it survives, as do these young people. In the eight weeks of the project we have laughed and cried, and that's just the facilitators.
We are almost at the moment where those who want to will tell their stories to an invited audience. They can present their story live if they want to, or by film. I can't wait to see the finished work. I don't think there will be a dry eye in the house.
we are all hoping that this will be the first of many more projects like this, so watch this space!