Awakening

The awakening from the anaesthetic was a wonderful experience, to say the least, as was the entry into an alternative region induced by the anaesthetist.

She was a lovely Irish girl who kept using the term "craic." I told her the craic was good in Cricklewood. Or, at least, it was back in the day. Probably before parents were born.

The Irish anaesthetist laughed at everything; especially when I enquired about serious matters, ie  pain etc. "You'll be alright; just enjoy it," and "I'd love to have heard you blowing your sax."

That's what they all say, I thought. I'd told her about my playing for a couple of showbands in Kilburn, Camden Town and, of course, The Gresham in Upper Holloway. All, of course, in London.

These were Amor Alcis and The Showlanders under the management of Mrs Eileen Wagstaff. Then I was permanently booked under the Clayman Agency and the fantastic So Much Straw (later The 1879 Potato Famine) with Chips Vallely (lead guitar) and Nick Harrison (electric bass and electric violin) who went on to arrange for The Soft Machine. He ended up with a chauffeur driven Rolls Royce on the strength of his period with us. We played everything from rock 'n' roll (revival), modern (plus avant-garde) jazz, pop (Hendrix etc) and, oddly, ballroom (strict tempo). What an experience! I really learned on the wing, rather like my art, theatre, film work, and most everything else.

Who could ever forget The Gresham? That was the showband where our rhythm electric guitarist with the mad look in his eyes, staring out of a really red face framed by black hair, accompanied by a curious head-shaking mannerism, almost had me walk off the stage in case the men in white coats arrived. But I never did, and they never carted Dave Blackburn off. I liked him enormously, really.

"We really need you, †Seán, to play on these dates. The lads are depending on you," Dave said on the telephone when I had double-booked my dates. Thankfully, that particular conversation was taped, as anything concerning professional work always was. I was listening to it only recently.

The visual and the audio yesterday, as I drifted back into consciousness, matched what I experienced in the moments before the anaesthetic took over initially. A most pleasant experience.

There was the sound of Trane's Giant Steps, melding with waves lapping a recognisable shore, as Village Blues superseded, bringing a sense of slow motion, as I went under to a familiar vision.

It was Sarah playing on the seashore in the shallows, as she does. Dancing. Twirling. Laughing. 

Her presence is the most reassuring of things. I surely could not get through any of this without her. 

I bless the day I found her.

On 19/03/2020 13:51, Arthur Hill wrote:

> I have been catching up on my post and Email. So pleased to hear that

> all went well at St.Georges and how fortunate you were to get it done

> before ops were shut down.

> The results sound very positive and hopefully the news in two weeks

> will also sail in with a fair wind. So great news and isn't the first

> cuppa you get in recovery absolute bliss.

> Let me know when you buck up enough to have a jaw on the dog, best

> wishes to Sarah, it must be reassuring to have someone so supportive

> by your side.

> art xx