Insomnia - it kills your dreams. Literallly.

Captain James T Kirk got it wrong you know.

He said that space was the final frontier, the place to “explore strange new worlds, seek out new life forms and new civilisations and to boldly go where no man has gone before” .

But it isn’t intergalactic space travel that you need to achieve all these goals, it is something far more humble – a solid night’s dream-laden sleep. No sci-fi writer in the world has yet managed to come up with story lines to match what your mind can produce when the imagination is set free during your sleeping hours.

You do indeed boldly go to places where you have never been and face scenarios you can never imagine.

It’s a mystical, magical world.

Sadly, however, for many people like me this dream world is often ruined by the appearance of a Klingon. And he’s called insomnia.

I have written about my occasional bursts of insomnia a couple of times in this blog/column over the years and it always produces letters or comments later because so many people suffer from this demoralising night time problem. A survey in America in 2002 said that as many as 58 per cent of adults in America experience symptoms of insomnia a few nights a week or more. That seems rather a high figure to me but anecdotally I know that a lot of people are just not getting as much sleep as they would like.

My insomnia – which I understand is called transient insomnia – is like a strange uncle who turns up unexpectedly at a do. He stays as long as he sees fit and then just goes. You don’t know why he decided to come but you suspect after he leaves that he will pop back again when you least expect it. He’s not your favourite uncle.

I’ve had a couple of bouts lately – the most recent on Tuesday night. I had no particular issues on my mind, no reasons to stop me going into dream land but not only did I not have 40 winks but I think I hardly had a single (tiddly) wink. People say that is impossible and you must sleep sometime but all I can say is that my digital clock and I became very well acquainted and if there were bursts of sleep, the clock must have stopped while I had them.

I tried all my usual methods to help me sleep – but to no avail. One I would heartily recommend to other sufferers which usually does the trick is to look at the time and if it is, say 11.15pm, then remember what you were doing at every quarter past the hour throughout the day. Normally I am asleep before I get to lunchtime. On Tuesday though even this fail-safe system, err, failed.

The problem with insomnia is that even as and when you get through the night you then carry it over to the following day. On Wednesday morning, as I write this, I still feel alert and ready for action (ish) but I won’t get home tonight until about 11pm because I’m chairing an election debate at St Martin’s Church. To anyone who was there can I, therefore, just say that if I did fall asleep, it was nothing to do with the politicians. Honest.

So to all those who are reading this who are fellow sufferers, you have my total sympathy. I just hope that tonight you can boldly go into your lovely dreamland and leave the Klingon well behind.

Glastonbury + Michael Eavis = Power + Principle

As we now enter a local election campaign where the various parties will be debating about why their principles should earn them power, it was truly refreshing on Monday night to listen to a non-political man who has ‘the power’ but has never lost sight of the guiding principles that inspired him to want it.

Michael Eavis was the guest speaker at a packed Ustinov event organised by Creative Bath which brought together people from all around the city to pick up nuggets of wisdom from a truly remarkable individual.

Mr Eavis, who still regards himself as a farmer who just happens to run the Glastonbury Festival, was as self effacing and modest as ever – something which I suspect the vast majority of those like him named by Time magazine as among the 100 most influential people in the world do not share.

More than 40 years ago having been inspired by the big concert in Shepton Mallet, the Pilton farmer decided he would set up his own (at that stage) free festival event. It has of course now transformed into possibly the biggest festival in the world and it is one that artists clamber to play out of respect for its core beliefs as well as the prominence it gives them.

Mr Eavis spent far more time on the night talking about the pleasure it gives him to raise some £2 million every year for charity as a result of the festival than about the actual event itself. To him the festival is five glorious days in Somerset but it’s real lasting legacy will be the hundreds of thousands of people who will have been touched from Pilton to Peru by the money raised at the South West’s biggest party.

What was also inspiring to hear was that the 75-year-old absolutely loved what he did. Several times he described running the festival as a ‘buzz’ and he said that he thought he had the best job in the world and one which he had always treated with great respect.

But, of course, respect is a two-way street and it is because some of the most famous performers in the world believe in Mr Eavis’s vision of using music to bring people together to do good in the world that they are prepared to forgo their usual commercial rates.

As an example, he quoted the fact that Sir Paul McCartney played at Glastonbury for around a twentieth of what he could normally command at a big stadium event. People don’t do that unless they believe in you and believe in what you stand for–- and people rightly believe in Michael Eavis.

Above all, as he continually told us, he enjoys every minute.

It is no coincidence that when we went into our archive of photographs of him, every one of them saw him with a big smile.

He loves what he does, he loves the feeling the festival gives to people but most of all he loves the fact that long after the last chord has been played, people are benefiting from a festival that uses its power to prove its principles.

Searching for a new 'Song for Bath'

This first appeared in the Bath Chronicle of March 31

I have often waxed lyrical in this column/blog about the fact that Bath truly is a city of music.

No matter what tastes you have there is plenty of musical choice out there for you to enjoy.

And, just as importantly, it seems there are thousands of people in our community performing as well as listening. It is a city built on sound.

Even with that as a context, however, I can say that I have been truly staggered over the past few days as I have been listening to the entries for the first-ever Song For Bath competition which has shown what a remarkable collection of songwriters and musical storytellers we have in our community.

I am lucky enough to be one of the judges of this great competition and so a while ago I was handed (by the irrepressibly enthusiastic organiser Paddy Doyle), a box of CDs and a huge catalogue of music and lyrics of the near 100 entries from which to pick my favourites.

When it was set up those of us involved in the contest had no idea if it would take off and capture the local imagination and, indeed, in the early days it did look as though it may be a struggle to get the kind of numbers we needed to make this a viable musical battle.

Well, we need not have worried.

For as the deadline for entries got closer, they poured in and the result is a splendid collection of tunes covering everything from rock songs to choral and classical pieces. And just about everything in between. The idea is that my fellow judges and I (and they are all far more qualified than I am in this process) have now got to whittle down the entries to just ten for our grand final in June (more details of which will be announced shortly).

And it is not easy.

As we all know musical taste is very subjective so I've tried to bring other people into my selection process. But such is the diversity of songs that with other people's input the shortlist is now a very long list.

So, therefore, this weekend I will have to go back to the tunes again before making my final choices. My selections will be added to those submitted by the other judges in the hope that between us we can come up with a group of finalists we can all be happy with.

Overall, I have been genuinely impressed at the effort which people have put in to write and record these songs about our city which inspire both musically and lyrically.

The most important thing of all, however, is that I'm certain we ARE going to find a strong winner as there are plenty of golden nuggets amidst the collection. There are tunes I found myself whistling hours later and lyrics that quickly wrote themselves onto my brain.

A worthy Song for Bath is on those CDs. We just have to dig it out.

Online, offline, onwards and upwards.

This first appeared in the Bath Chronicle of March 24 On a recent Tuesday at about 2.30pm something dramatic happened in our office. Grown men exhibited panic. Frustration levels grew. The air was tense - the mood unpredictable. Why? Because, oh reader, the internet had been switched off. For reasons which (as usual) were unfathomable, none of us could get on to our own site (thisisbath), Google was as impossible to access as the mind of Colonel Gaddafi and, to misquote Frankie Howerd, it was a case of "Twitter Ye Not". That sense of minor shock and awe bought on by the loss of our online contact may sound a bit OTT but as the minutes passed into the hours on Tuesday and people got decidedly twitchy it brought home again just how much cyberspace has affected all our lives. As journalists the "interweb" is an essential tool for what we do but it goes much deeper for people like us than a mere resource. So much of our lives both personally and professionally have become entwined in the nether regions of the world wide web that it is only when it is taken away - as it was on Tuesday - that you see how hamstrung and rather bereft people can feel without it. You get the impression some people think life and communication didn't begin until a bright spark thought it would be an idea to link his computer to someone else's just a few short years ago. But it is worth remembering just how few years ago that was. YouTube may, for example, seem to have been around forever and with an estimated two billion videos being shown every day on the site you could believe it took decades to build up that clientele. But YouTube has only been an entity since February 2005 and it (quietly) hit the world at the same time as, for instance, Charles and Camilla announced they were to marry. And that doesn't seem that long ago at all does it? As for Facebook with its 600 million users, that only became available to us as members of the public in 2006 - the same year as Twitter began building up to its now 190 million users. In industry terms these are baby companies and yet they are the biggest, noisiest and most impact-full babies in history. The phenomenal speed in which these sites and the internet has taken over all our daily lives in such a short period of time is, truly, a source of amazement. Life will never be the same again now we have this astonishing technology and the only remaining question is just how much more of our lives will the all-embracing internet envelop. And yet . . . . Anyone watching Comic Relief on Friday night will have seen that for a world that can get so smug about its massive information technology advancements we are remarkably bad at simple things like keeping children from dying of starvation. So, while the world wide web may be developing at a pace the offline world, sadly, seems as slow to really change as it ever did . . .

Boy of boy - do I really do this???????

It is always nice to get letters from people who read this column/blog.

And so I was extremely pleased to receive a lovely note from a Bathampton lady called Pam who said that she enjoyed this column and the other ones on the opinion page of the Chronicle . There was, however, a sting in the tail which I hope Pam won’t mind me sharing.

Her note said: “May I make a small request of you? In nearly every column you write there appears the words ‘boy oh boy’. A habit perhaps? What does it add to the general sense of what you write? Please could you erase it from your opinion page – I would really appreciate that”.

To be honest, I was a bit taken aback by this. I though I must have used the phrase once or twice – but do I really use it that often?

Sadly (for me) the answer was quickly at hand. The letter had been, ahem, ‘helpfully’ read out to the whole editorial team by our reporter Siobhan and immediately one or two of my colleagues checked our computerised archive to see if Pam was right and I was wrong.

To my amazement we found (and it’s a good job this isn’t a video column otherwise you would see my cheeks blazing red) that over the years the phrase ‘boy oh boy’ had emanated from my computer keys and into print no less than 15 times. And, pointedly (and perhaps this is why my new Bathampton friend decided to write) it had appeared every month for the past four.

Boy.
Oh.
Boy.

What made me flabbergasted is that this is not a phrase I thought I used very often but the printed words cannot lie (well, some of them can but that’s another story). I found I’d used it to write about everything from Monty Python to the BNP appearing on Question Time.

How utterly embarrassing.

I think, on reflection, I’ve probably latched on to phrases such as this in everyday life because – and I think I may be an exclusive editor’s club of one on this – I do not swear. Ever since my children were little (the best part of 20 years now), I have managed to avoid swearing which has perplexed many of those around me who find it utterly incredible.

I remember somebody once saying “but what on earth do you say if you hit your thumb with a hammer while hanging something up”? I just looked at them, equally bewildered, and said “ouch, of course”.

I suppose what this whole incident has done – apart from causing much merriment to my colleagues which is never a bad thing on a tense Wednesday deadline – is to prove that even when we may not notice it we can all slip into our own chosen phrases and words rather too easily.

I know, for example, that too many things in my world are ‘amazing’, ‘wonderful’ or ‘bizarre’ because they happen to be three of my favourite words. But, just as every English teacher has taught their pupils for decades about overusing the word ‘nice’ I think Pam has given me a timely reminder that the English language is a glorious, multi-faceted object of beauty and we should all try and use our own internal Thesaurus’s more often.

Bath at its best on Half Marathon Day

This wa sprinted in the Bath Chronicle on Thursday, March 10

OK, I admit it, I did have the best ‘seat’ in the house but boy oh boy, wasn’t Bath’s half marathon day a fantastic occasion?

As I said in last week’s column/blog, I had both the honour and the privilege last Sunday morning of starting the Bath Half Marathon and, standing on the gantry with my starter hooter on hand, I was able to really take in the magnificence and scope of this remarkable city event.

Even driving into the Bath before the start of the event, you could really sense that the streets were alive with anticipation. The whole town centre seemed to be buzzing and even though it was probably a degree or two colder than most people would like, there was an intoxicatingly warm and friendly atmosphere wherever you went.

As I took to the stage and looked down Great Pulteney Street, I can genuinely say it was an inspiring and moving sight. And it was the contrasts among the thousands of competitors which I really loved.

Right in front of me at the starting line I saw the eager elite runners all totally focused on their stopwatches and barely exchanging a word or a glance at a fellow competitors. And yet just a few minutes later, I was passed by camels, bananas, one or two remarkably under-dressed men and seemingly dozens of people running for a breast cancer awareness charity and wearing large inflatable boobs to make the very dramatic point.

As somebody that has followed sport all my life, I found this contrast to be really amazing. By and large in most sporting events you don’t get top class professionals taking part at the same event as people who are doing it for the sheer fun of the day but that’s what you get at a half marathon. As the elite runners team jerseys moved on, it was a joy to see so many people wearing t-shirts of every charity you can name – and some you probably can’t.

For, and this must never be forgotten, although a lot of people were quite legitimately running for themselves and for personal reasons, so many others were primarily hitting the streets to raise as much money as possible for the concerns that are dear to them. And that is why a staggering £1.4 million was raised last year alone for charity by those who took part in this outstanding community event.

Overall, I came away thinking that I’d truly seen Bath at its best. Apart from the thousands of local people taking part in the main event – and the 1,000+ involved in the lovely family fun run that went alongside – the streets throughout the city were littered with well-wishers urging people on and probably providing a vital boost to people as they hit the various ‘walls’ one would face over a 13 mile trek.

Of course, as I mentioned last week, it did make me wonder if I could do it. I’m not the fittest of individuals (something of an understatement there) and (creak, creak) I’m not as young as I was but then again I saw people whose size, age and general disposition made me realise if they can do it, then maybe, just maybe, I could too.

Taking part in the Bath Half Marathon - well, sort of

As I have said in this blog before, I am touched and humbled at the number of things you get asked to do as the editor of a newspaper.

To have the role of the newspaper recognised is something for which all of us involved are extremely grateful as it shows that the community appreciates the commitment we have to local life.

As such, over my years as an editor I have had the privilege of judging everything from a dog competition to a beauty contest, from hosting political debates to rock concerts and from opening everything from a fete to an Oxfam shop. All of these things, crucially, have not been about me but about the papers I represent – and I never take any of these kind invitations for granted.

However, I think on Sunday, March 6, I will top the lot.

For I am honoured to have been asked to start Bath’s biggest community event of the year – the half marathon with anything up top 15,000 competitors.

As far as I can tell, this merely involves getting the race going and making the shortest speech of my editorial career (here’s a sneak preview of it, it is ‘Good luck everyone!’) but I am genuinely moved that the paper has been asked to be involved in this way.

It will be particularly pleasing for me as I know a lot of the people who are taking part, all of whom are doing so for a wide variety of excellent charities. Indeed, my two most senior colleagues on the Bath Chronicle editorial team – deputy editor Paul Wiltshire and chief sub/assistant editor Graham Holburn – will be among those lining up at the start of the race, probably wondering how I got to do the easy, cushy job while they have to do all the running.

The truth is, and it seems a terrible admission considering the role I’ve been asked to perform, running and me have never been great bedfellows. During my occasional “gym’ll fix it” periods I find I am pretty good on the rowing machines and other cardiovascular equipment but when it comes to the treadmills, I walk very well, but the moment I start to run something weird happens.

I stop.

Quite quickly.

I’m hoping therefore that from my position on Sunday I will be inspired to maybe see if I could get back on that running track again. I know so many people who have said that, like me, they never thought they could run but have then set themselves goals such as a half marathon and achieved it that it proves that no one should give up in this direction.

I’m sure Sunday will help to convince me that half marathons really are for everyone.

Of course, although I will know a number of people in the race I know that with so many others coming from outside the Chronicle circulation area, the vast majority won’t have a clue who that chap is setting them on their way. I fear, therefore, that as I am often compared to my “lookie-likies” that there will be people who will leave Bath thinking that the race had been started by Adrian Chiles, Boris Johnson or even Keith Chegwin.

So, I look forward to seeing a few of you on Sunday – I’ll be the one without the trainers.