Bits & Pieces

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•Rusty Lee

•Seeing the city-scape from the motorway and knowing you are home

•Lazy days in Cannon Hill Park

•Crisp winter days in Sutton Park

•Snobs

•Benjamin Zephaniah

•Custard Factory

•Not taking yourself too seriously

•Heavy Metal

•No nonsense West Indian ladies buying meat at the Indoor Market

•Being called ‘Bab’ by older Brummies

•The Beat

•Lickey Hills

•Seeing a show at the MAC

•Wondering around the Ikon Gallery

•Getting lost looking at a painting in the Museum in town

•Seeing anything at the Town Hall

•Going to Digbeth for one thing but staying for another, for 10 hours.

•St Paul’s Square in the summer

•The sun shining through the roof of Moor Street Station

•Bumping into your mates at Mostly Jazz

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I love a good deal. Sometimes, it kind of makes me feel like I’m beating the system when I get something in a sale.

But, as a bit of an antidote to all this growing ‘Black Friday’ and Christmas pressure to buy more stuff, I’m offering something for free. My time and my attention.

Over the next month, I’m offering an hour of my time to people in my network. Have you got something you need help with? Need some research doing? An idea you need airing? Are you up for a bit of coaching on something you want to change or do?

Here are the ground rules: I can’t give you any money, it can’t involve breaking the law, I can’t travel any further than approximately 20 minutes in my car to meet you if you want to meet up.

So, we can do it over a phone call or virtually over a Skype/webinar thingy, if you are further away.

Interested? By all means send me a direct message on twitter (@Darrencannan) and we can have a chat. Thanks 🙂

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I never thought I’d find a job that used all the elements of journalism without producing any column inches, but by working at Grapevine that’s exactly what happened. I used every facet of being reporter to connect people to their communities.

Building a wide variety of relationships, being curious about your surroundings, doing research, thinking creatively and often laterally, being brave, taking a deeper dive in the streets and stories on your ‘patch’, all of these elements were some of the parts of being a reporter. They probably still are.

But as a reporter I felt that these elements often seemed to be applied to situations where you would be looking for what’s wrong with a situation. This didn’t suit me, or I didn’t suit this career.

So, I took the chance of a career change, and Grapevine took a punt on me. It took a little bit of time to find my feet. But you know what, working at Grapevine helped me shine a light on some ‘blind spot’ personal prejudices and misconceptions about what being perceived as different means in our society. At times it felt like more than a job; it felt like more than a salary. And thinking about Grapevine now brings back some of that feeling of magic.

Having the privilege of playing a part in growing somebody’s life on their terms, making possibilities and ideas real, helping them change their story through their passions and personality has been one of the most rewarding things I’ve done with my life.

Grapevine is ever-evolving and the organisation I left nearly a decade ago is still innovating, thinking and taking action on the ‘what if?’ and ‘why can’t this be different?’.

So, happy birthday, Grapevine. Wishing you the very best with your projects and future success.

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It was the 75th anniversary of the Battle of Monte Cassino this week. My Grandad, Raymond, fought in the battle as part of the Royal Army Service Corp. He never really spoke in detail about it, but it sounded like a ruthless and brutal campaign. Painstakingly slow infantry warfare in the Italian mountains, at the cost of many thousands of lives. Apparently, the Allied forces, made up of 16 countries, finallly broke the resolve of the Axis forces on June 5, with the Polish planting their flag in the rubble where the monastery at Cassino once stood. This victory had strategic importance as it enabled the Allies to take Rome, then drive through southern Europe towards Nazi Germany. However, the battle’s importance was eclipsed by the landings on Omaha Beach, 24 hours later, in D-Day. The beginning of the end of the war in Europe had started. A personal note in this chapter of history: I found this poem/song in my Grandad’s belongings about the Allied forces in Casssino, dubbed the so-called ‘D-Day Dodgers’. Looks like an endeavour to have a lighter moment with the troops.

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Happy St. George’s Day.

Thank you for our ability to queue whatever the circumstances.

Thank you for our obsession to talk about the weather to anybody.

Thank you to the enterprising and opportunistic Italians, French, Danes and northern Europeans for contributing to our culture, laws, place names, customs, buildings and language over a couple of thousand years.

Thank you to the ingenious Scots for designing engines and machines that powered the Industrial Revolution.

Thank you to the people from the Commonwealth and Ireland for working hard in all our industries and public services to get this country back on its feet after WW2.

Thank you to a line of poets from William Blake to Benjamin Zephaniah for their visions of England.

Thank you for living in a country where if you travel 50 miles in any direction you’ll hear a different accent and dialect.

For me, being English is like being a bit from everywhere.

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The house by mid-afternoon on Sunday was in its usual upside down state. My wife and my eldest daughter were out and I had our twins to look after. Progress in getting anything practical done was like swimming through treacle. So I gave in and started to play. Tickling on the run around the house. Hide and seek. It had elements of a farce, like the goofy slapstick between Inspector Clouseau and Cato, and any number of other classic comedy films. The play was glorious. We were all in fits of laughter. The twins are quite a handy double act in scything down an adult with giggling and tickling. A formidable tag team. No gadgets. Nothing fancy at all. Just ourselves, our imagination and a messy house. This all reminded me that despite the plans we have, the immediate worries or concerns we muse over, living in and being in the moment is so important. Because whether it is with your children, your other half, your pets, your friends, whoever it is, it is this time you can never buy back. Drop it all, join in, be in that moment. Side with joy. Vote happiness. And in terms of children, all this play reminded of this quote by the American television personality, Fred Rogers. By the way, the children are all in bed and the house is back to normal now. Time for a beer.

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Peace Lying here, I’m in the bunker between the twins’ beds. Facing the day. A cornflower blue, lattice of light patterns the ceiling The curtains glow as a mural This domestic cathedral of Basil Spence’s design is keeping me awake. Lying here, I’m in the bunker between the twins’ beds. Facing the day. The hushed and enveloped quiet. The winter has the insulation of snow. Padded sounds. Upholstered echoes. Everything seems smaller. In turn, so does the summer feel naked and expansive in the heat. Just then, the sky amplified the deep thrust of a plane at altitude. A squawk from a blackbird, then a hurried flap of wings. The window sill popping, the house flexing and creaking in the gradual arrival of dawn. Lying here, I’m in the bunker between the twins’ beds. Facing the day. My boy’s 3-year-old thigh rubs against the sheet. He licks his lips. Swallows. He hums contentment’s song of sleep.

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On the road with work as usual and had a bit of time to have a mooch around Newport. Not the first place you’d probably visit on a trip to Wales. Sure, it is a place with its challenges on one hand, but on the other hand there has been some economic investment, visible from the swanky flats and Friars Walk development. I happened upon the market, housed in a faded but beautifully ornate Victorian building. Newport seems to have a few faded but beautiful Victorian buildings, but retained rather than bulldozed (ahem, note to other towns and cities a bit too quick to knock down its heritage too quickly). It was interesting to see some of the empty market space used for a free pop-up business school for entrepreneurs (or just for people with a few ideas), and I also found a great book and music shop, with everything from academic books, pop magazines to pulp fiction. Hearing the conversations in the cafes and on the streets, the townsfolk do seem to have a particular mischievous spirit, soul and energy. There’s a bit of depth and character to the place, in my view. Old and new, light and shade, and with the surrounding hills popping out between the buildings, the Welsh countryside with its folklore and myth never feels far away.

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A little light-hearted skit about the Royal wedding and FA cup final happening on the same day. An imagined phone call between Prince William and Prince Harry.

*phone rings*

Will: hey, wassup?

Harry: hey, I’m getting married!

W: No!

H: Yes!

W: that’s fabulous. ‘Bout bloody time, old boy.

H: Thing is, I’m worried about the time between the ceremony and the evening do.

W: Why? Grandpa? You know?

H: I know.

W: He’ll be on the gin.

H: And sherry

W: and Dad, body-popping after a couple of glasses.

H: bloody hell. Yes.

W: what’s the plan, then?

H: don’t know. What do you think? Any ideas?

W: nothing. Sweet FA

H: Sweet FA? Hang on, yes, that’s it, you are involved in the FA?

W: Yes, Football Association?

H: there you go? The FA Cup? That Saturday. It’ll keep them all busy.

W: Leave it with me, bro. I’ll see what I can do.

H: love you man.

W: love you, too, fella.

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A Little Time Capsule

This is something of a time capsule story. I was having a sort out and found this photo of my grandad from WW2. This might be North Africa, Sicily or Greece, where he served as a lorry driver taking ammunition to the frontline troops. It’s mounted on a piece of card and it turns out when you ease the card back slightly, you can see the start of a message from him to my nan. Intriguingly, you can’t read it all because the photo is still partially stuck to the card. I don’t want to rip it any further to ruin it. The beginnings of their relationship, from this correspondence, stays their business; a private matter, held in time. All you can read is: “To Daisy, I am yours for......Darling”

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Debbie Harry

Sometimes you just need a picture of Debbie Harry looking hot and cool. I would have loved to have been in New York in the early '70s. Experiencing the mixture of cultures that gave birth to disco, hip hop and some great rock bands. Truman Capote knocking 'em back at Studio 54 and telling tales. Lou Reed's simmering greatness; the New York Dolls starting out. Grandmaster Flash doing his thing. Larry Levan innovating sounds in the growing dance scene at the Paradise Garage. If I had a time machine, I'd go back and be a reporter for Rolling Stone Magazine from about '72 for a decade.

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My Musical Heroes

My musical heroes. Razor-sharp suits, laser-guided lyrics and timeless songs. I think you can join the musical dots from them to many UK bands and sounds; a bit of a leap perhaps, but I'm thinking of Gorillaz in this instance. I would argue that they both have a kind of late 20th century Britishness about them - flamboyance tinged with sadness, uplifting yet dark, gritty and culturally diverse. If the aliens ever do find Earth, I'd give them an album by The Specials as a peace offering.

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Looking After My Mental Health

This being the week of World Mental Health Day and all that, this is how I try to look after mine. I have a bit of an odd job in that I work remotely and travel a fair bit, but I don't always see people in the day. So I'm kind of everywhere and nowhere at the same time. And for somebody like me who loves being around people, looking at a computer or sitting in a motorway service station aren't always the best ways to keep me happy. I can feel a little isolated and lonely at times, but I've got my strategies to help me through. I have a very supportive employer that takes mental health seriously and is very supportive. So, in no particular order, here are some of the things that help me through the week. I volunteer once a week as a telephone befriender with an older person. Writing is a help - even if it's just the nub of an idea and it doesn't develop into something substantial. If I'm at home then I'll take some time out of my working day to tickle our twins, or roar at them like a reasonably friendly monster/bear. Chatting with My wife in the day is a real help, even if I don't remember everything I've committed to do in the house (DIY?). If I've got time in my lunch hour I'll take the twins to the park for a run around. In moderation, I'll have a bit of social media tennis with people on here or other platforms. I try and read something completely unconnected to my work, even if it is just a couple of pages. Because I have a bit of flexibility in my work, I'll sometimes go to a cafe or a library to have a change of scenery to do my work. I'm posting this not because I think my mental health gets particularly low, or that I have some unique way of trying to look after my mental health, but because I think it is important that men should speak openly about their mental health. #WMHD2017 Thanks 🙂

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Asia's Century

Lord Jones, I have a genuine question for you. I have heard you say in a number of interviews that this is 'Asia's century' and we should make sure the UK is in the best position to take advantage of this situation. I don't disagree with this position at all. However, I'd be really interested to hear your thoughts on the case of China, where it's industry is partially state-owned, and it is the businesses from this industrial context which seem to investing in our industries. Not critical of this position either. Although isn't it ironic that the Anglo-American model of capitalism where state ownership of industry has been reversed over the last few decades, is being supported by foreign businesses with a high degree of state ownership? Have I got this wrong, or is there a paradox of economic models at the heart of our involvement in the so-called Asia's century? Many thanks, Darren Cannan

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Two updates about how Analogue Tales: Sounds from Arden, my folk/poetry album with James Summerfield, is involved with this year's Birmingham Literature Festival. Listen out for excerpts from the album before the events begin in the Studio Theatre in the Library of Birmingham, at this year's Birmingham Literature Festival. The album is available here in different formats: https://commerciallyinviablerecords.bandcamp.com/album/analogue-tales-sounds-from-arden Also, as part of the Birmingham Literature Festival, James and I are doing an event at Waterstones in Birmingham city centre on Saturday, October 15, 4-5pm, in the cafe. There will be presentations, poetry readings, song performances and a Q&A about the making of Analogue Tales. It's free, you won't need a ticket and all are very welcome.

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My offering for #NationalPoetryDay (based on my daughter's drawing) Halley's comet flew right past a sneaky meteor which took a detour to look for its mate in outer space