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Ho hum. Just read Freewheelin’ 220
and, as ever, am acutely aware of my many limitations on all things
Dylan. Which most might regard as me using a word more than I need to,
but so it goes. Re 220 - I’m pretty sure that EVERYONE spotted my
cunning ‘best bits’ woven into my tale of nice things in Nice, but to
remind myself of what they were, they include, in no special order
Endings
Music
Je ne sais quoi
Climbing
Friendship
Passion
Opportunity
Expertise
The Unusual
Runyon
Insight
Travel
Humour
Desire
Iconoclasm
Surprises
Beginnings
Et d’accord, lingerie.
Dylan provides a soundtrack (I took a lot of trouble trying to slip in
coded references) for much of that, but not to the exclusion of other
music from across many genres. It’s the simple fact that ANY ‘best of’
(or its equivalents, however they are expressed), is intrinsically
limiting. Reflect, if you will, that the likes of ‘FHM’, ‘Cosmopolitan’,
most TV programmes and other examples of popular culture, are
consistently built on notions of ‘best of’. Are you who the publishers,
programme makers and purveyors of tat have in mind? Am I?
That said, there’s nothing wrong with finding common ground; indeed we
would all be better off if we routinely did it, and not just with wider
humanity. The notion that ours is the life that matters most is used to
routinely exploit other life forms. What about the relentless assault on
resources and the environment? What about the exploitation of animals?
What about the actions of Governments, who, when they can be bothered (i.e.
in the run up to elections) trot out ‘political expediency’ as a
sufficient explanation of their actions? And we’re all part of that
hypocrisy. Cue a step into another world.
On the morning of Saturday 31st January 1998 I was (almost to the
exclusion of other things, it being a really busy time), a chief officer
in local government. More specifically Director of Policy for Blackburn
with Darwen BC, which at the time was a newly-designated unitary
Authority, i.e. one empowered to deliver all local services, such as
Education, Social Services, Highways maintenance, Housing, Leisure et
al. Back then, had you or anyone said something to the effect that “it’s
hardly a proper job, your reverence,” I would have responded with
something along the lines of: I understand why you might think that, but
here’s another view…
Local Councils are faced with the huge task of trying to provide for the
present and the future. It’s horribly difficult (but vital) to make
informed and effective decisions in an environment with a wide range of
stakeholders, including the Government, the private sector, statutory
bodies (NHS, Police etc) voluntary groups, community organisations and
future generations. And because it’s public money, there is an
overarching duty to spend it wisely and well. My role, together with
that of my staff and other colleagues, is to help inform the corporate
policy making and strategic management processes, as well as activities
and initiatives within and beyond the authority.
Had you pressed me on the may failings of local government I would have
agreed with you, though also pointed to the real successes that are
often unnoticed. Had you questioned the calibre of Councillors and my
peers, I would have acknowledged that for rather too many of them, the
size of their offices, like their sense of self-esteem, is inversely
proportional to their abilities. I would have concurred that Councils
are generally remote, forbidding and hideously bureaucratic. And with
the fact that it’s impossible for the ordinary public to get meaningful
information, still less easily reach senior staff, or even middle
managers. Though I would also have said that if things are to change
(and they must), helping move things forward requires more than moaning
about the ills and deficiencies. Getting involved is vital, though often
thankless and always demanding.
In response to “what about the workers, you fat cat you” I would have
said that staff indeed the organisation’s most valuable asset and so
must be empowered, developed and encouraged, rather than bullied,
restricted by job descriptions and processes that often emphasise
status, but are short on effectiveness. “Have some fun and get it done”
was one of my mantras, based on my belief that if people enjoy what they
are doing, it almost doesn’t matter how demanding the job is. And it’s
vital to ensure that EVERYBODY who contributes is equally valuable and
equally valued. We get paid at different rates because we do different
things. But all of them are in some way important.
I know that I had very different views from most of my peers and behaved
very differently, something that unsettled many, and amused some. But
others were very supportive, so I wasn’t entirely alone. Not that it
would have mattered to me, but it would have hindered progress. Though
on the whole, it felt like there was a very, very, long way to go.
I was probably thinking of work stuff as I rode back from Polar Bear
records (with a couple of Dylan boots in the tank bag) on the afternoon
of 31st January. It was a clear, bright day. The road was dry and the
traffic moving pretty steadily along the Otley Road as I headed towards
Leeds City Centre. My motorcycle, a 1,000cc Laverda Jota, was a real
pleasure to ride. It was later estimated (incorrectly I think) that I
was doing between 40 and 50mph when for some unknown reason I skidded
and hit the concrete plinth of a traffic island. I sustained severe head
and internal injuries and would have died there, but for the happy
coincidence of crashing opposite an ambulance, in front of a police car
and five minutes from a head injuries unit. Fortunately for me, my
helmet was a top of the range model, whilst close fitting leathers
minimised damage to the internal organs and limited blood loss.
But it was a near-run thing. I immediately went in to a series of ‘grand
mal’ fits, so extreme that the Policewoman who came with me in the
ambulance later said she ached for days with the effort of holding me
down. When my wife arrived at the hospital it was to be told that unless
the surgeons could stem the bleeding from my internal injuries I would
die, irrespective of the extent of the head injury. It turned out that I
had extensively ruptured the cranial sac (hence the loss of a lot of
cranial fluid), fractured both eye-sockets, fractured my skull along the
line of my eyebrows and down through my right ear (which is why I am
deaf in it – but it saves buying the hybrid CDs), fractured my cheekbone
and damaged the cerebellum, which affects balance. But the biggest
concern was the swelling to the right hemisphere of my brain, the loss
of cranial fluid and the length of time I was unconscious. Eight days,
as it happens, although I think a lot of that was because I was kept
sedated.
There is no such think as severe head injury not having huge adverse
effects, many of them permanent, however much they might be mitigated by
a recovery programme. Even a mild injury can produce massive personality
and behavioural changes, although as I didn’t have much of a personality
to begin with and have always misbehaved, the effect on me is less
apparent. After a year off work and eight months on a phased return, I
had to retire because I no longer have the ability to operate at the
level I did before the crash. Mental stamina is still poor, as is
concentration, problem solving, planning, short-term memory and other
‘executive’ functions. Although I could write from quite early on, I
couldn’t read for months, and then only hesitantly. I still struggle
with anything unfamiliar. But I no longer get tearful (well, not very
often), though having mild aphasia and something of a stammer is
frustrating. I am also prone to sometimes feeling that my head is full
of water sloshing about. I have extremely intrusive tinnitus, which
makes sleep a major problem. I think that’s the main reason why I can
get very impatient and irritable, but maybe it’s lots of other things
too. There is extensive scar tissue on my brain, which makes any further
head injury undesirable and I believe I’m at greater risk of meningitis
and Alzheimer’s. But so it goes.
Funny old piece for WWIYW ain’t it? In part it’s here because Dylan was
(and remains) a very important part of recovery for me, both as a means
of relaxing and as a vehicle that helps rebuilt old skills/attributes.
Writing, whether about Bob or anything else, is therapeutic and also
offers a way of connecting with a previous life. I regret its passing,
but have much to celebrate, so on balance it’s OK. Most of the time. If
an analogy helps, what I’m trying to do is akin to reconstructing a map
that has been shredded by the blast from a 12-bore shotgun. There’s a
huge hole in the middle and lots of smaller damage on the periphery. It
will never be as it was, but with a lot of effort and luck, it might
once again serve a useful purpose. It won’t do for everybody, but (as
ever) all I’m offering is one perspective of one reality. All the best
for 2004 (or its equivalent in other calendars) and beyond.
Jim (entirely deaf in one ear, endlessly daft in the other).
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