On the Brighter Side (10 pics from '25)

Here's my third photograph to mark 2025. It was April, my final stay in hospital, and I was but a handful of days away away from receiving my leaving papers. This was the corridor leading to Morris Ward. I was on Morris Ward. Great things happen on Morris Ward and great people work there. They offer the ultimate emergency service. Like many parts of City Hospital, that's where lives are saved, mine included. I'll never forget that. I'll also never forget the first day I was allowed to leave my isolation room and slip anchor. I made it as far as the walled courtyard where the sun shone and I drank a cup of real coffee. I took this photograph on the way. For the first time in a long time I was filled with hope.

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This mini series appears to have been hijacked by the KPM record label. And none the worse for that. Today I've gone with another one of their writers in residence: Johnny Hawksworth was a jazzer born in 1929 and, commercially, probably best remembered for his Thames Television ident (you'll know it as the precursor to the Sweeney!). Johnny provided the label with so much TV and film material - I'll probably do a little resumé of his work (and the other KPM stalwarts) in the New Year.

Johnny Hawksworth - On the Brighter Side (1982)   

Lean on me

During this last year, unlike in the photograph above, I've been the one doing the leaning: I've leant heavily on these two. I had no choice. In purely practical terms when I first came home from hospital I didn't even have the strength to get out of bed without assistance. But now as many of my 2025 memories get further and further in the rear view mirror so I can look at this photograph and proclaim: "You can lean on me again now. If you want to, that is."

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Did anyone see 'Leonard and Hungry Paul' on the BBC? I was initially circumpsect: "It won't be as good as the book" I muttered to myself. Ding dong, I was wrong. It was excellent. You must watch it; whether you're part of a big family or (like us Medds) a compact and bijou unit, you'll see friends and family leaning on each other all over the place. It's what we do. 

I'm Doing Just Fine

Since my surgery I get asked all the time 'How are you?' or 'How are you feeling?' To which, in the early days of recovery, I would recite, chapter & verse, precisely how I was feeling (and until quite recently that was mostly likening my current status to that of someone who has recently been hit by a truck). Then, for good measure, I'd also list of all my past, present and future hospital and clinic appointments. Pretty soon I realised that not only was I boring the person who was asking the question, I was boring myself. So now, whenever anyone asks me how I am, I simply reply: 'I'm doing just fine.' I've even written a song about it. 

John Medd · I'm Doing Just Fine

A huge thank you to the supremely talented Phil Cooper (below) who not only produced this recording but also made me sound like I knew what I was doing. 

Lost album sleeves #1

Towards the back end of my last stay in hospital I was allowed to leave my private room; the latest MRSA test result had come back negative thus rendering me no longer contagious - I was free to slip anchor and get a few steps in (I'd been atrophying, no two ways about it). Walking the endless corridors I battled against doctors and nurses in their scrubs, consultants, registrars, (hundreds of) visitors, gurneys, wheelchairs and various other medical flotsam and jetsam as I made my way to a sunny walled courtyard next to the cafe where I drank real coffee and absorbed some real rays (Vitamin D is in short supply in hospital, can I just tell you.) I'd been there about 20 minutes, feeling better than I'd felt in a long time, when I looked up from my book and saw what I can only describe as an image that wouldn't be out of place on any number of mid to late 80s album sleeves; probably some obscure Hugh Cornwell Japanese import. Or a rare as hens teeth Depeche Mode bootleg. That's what I thought, anyway. Anyone else looking up might just have seen four chimneys.

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 Whether or not I come back with #2 in the 'series' is, quite honestly, anyone's guess. Let's wait and see, shall we?

I'm doing just fine

Following my last post where, even I, when I've reread it, could see someone potentially in trouble; a bit like the 70s coastguard ad I saw someone drowning not waving. But panic thee not. It was just a temporary blip (another bump in the road). The good news from the District Nurse team1 is that my wound is healing really well. The tissue is getting healthier day by day which, they say, is, in no small part, down to regular exercise (i.e. walking 10,000 steps per day - not pumping iron in testosterone-heavy gyms) and my new high protein2 diet (steak & eggs for breakfast is the new thing at Medd Towers). In time, as the skin begins to knit together, the dressing should reduce in size as will the regularity with which it needs changing: as much as I've kind of liked nurses making a fuss of me, I long for a time when my bedroom is free of anyone save for the current Mrs. Medd and George & Luna.

Yesterday I picked up the guitar and started to bash out a melody that had been niggling away at me for a while and, with a few snatched words (pieced together with imagery from recent dreams), I was able to write my first song of 2025. It's called 'I'm Doing Just Fine'. I'll play it in public for the first time at Songwriters. If there's any creases in it that need ironing out I'm sure they'll tell me. After they've given me a bollocking for missing the last four meetings.

1I've never had so many women in my bedroom.

2This wound is sapping all my protein so (look away now if you're a vegetarian) I'm currently eating more meat than a boxer training for a prize fight.

Looking to get home

When a song truly touches you then you carry its words (and their meaning - implied or otherwise) and melody around with you forever. Although I only heard To Get Home by Megson (from their latest digital only EP) for the first time a couple of weeks ago, it has nonetheless already lodged itself deep into my psyche. Yes, I could put it down to my current physical and mental health (rundown and fragile respectively, since you ask), but it's probably just as much attributable to my eternal love of songs about longing: a longing often for something or somebody or even a way of life that has gone and will never come back. Throw in homesickness and a crushing sense of loss and I think you've got the full set! When I say implied meaning of song lyrics, referencing Megson's song in particular, I know they're referring to a time and a place where and when they grew up in Teeside and that travelling back years later on familiar, yet unfamiliar at the same time, roads and seemingly all your landmarks, all your footholds have disappeared. But that mirrors how I feel health wise at the moment. I may be home, as in out of hospital, but it's not the same. I'm looking to get home, to a place where I can truly be at peace. And until my physical and mental strength fully returns (my mental health in particular) I currently feel disconnected from all my natural trig points. 

Meson - To Get Home (2025)

   

Also, the cover of Megson's EP is very striking. If I'm not mistaken it's a depiction of the cooling towers not far from me at Ratcliffe-on-Soar Power Station. I've mentioned these iconic towers often round here; I'd like to think that when Debs and Stu travel from Cambridge (where they now live) to Teeside, the cooling towers - clearly visible from the motorway - will be like a marker post for them indicating how far along the journey they are*. I'd have asked them personally last Friday at Nottingham's Metronome but alas as I'd only just come out of hospital that day I ended up bequeathing my pair of tix to someone who could go. 

*On a more philosophical note I guess we all know roughly how far along our journey we are, but none of us want to know precise timings. 

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Well that was cheerful, wasn't it? I promise the next episode of Are We There Yet will be a tad more upbeat! 

Are we there yet?

Normal is defined as the usual, typical, or expected state or condition. Normality, normalcy if you will, is the state (and or condition) I've been striving to achieve from the moment my one on one cardiac nurse woke me from my anaesthetic fuelled slumber back in December. Whether I was indeed normal before my surgery is obviously debatable, but by and large in the three months since my old heart valve was replaced with a shiny new heart valve I've been trying to softly softly catchee monkey the only way I know how. And that is just literally one day at a time and, most importantly, listening to my body. Even when I came out of hospital I only have to look at the photos of myself with any of my early visitors to see that I looked like a ghost. A silent ghost: the Influenza Type A I contracted in hospital all but took away my voice during my first two or three weeks of liberation. So, gradually I've been driving again, getting my voice back again, getting my appetite back again (I lost over 10 kilos in hospital) and having the odd beer again (after 70 days dry it was a relief to discover I hadn't taken against the stuff). 

And walking again. My health app on my phone would indicate that in December I'd fallen off a cliff (which I kind of did) and it wasn't till mid-January that my weary body showed any signs of physical movement (hospital corridors aren't as long as you think). A major milestone was achieved only last week when I climbed (my) Everest and a couple of weeks before that I pulled in my first gig for nigh on three months - Chuck Prophet (who I know has been dealing with his own personal demons recently - he's currently in remission from Stage 4 Lymphoma). Chuck and his new band The Cumbian Shoes were nothing short of sensational at Nottingham's Metronome last month.

I guess, after normal, that's my next milestone: wouldn't it be great to feel sensational? Until then I'll stick with my usual response when people ask me how my recuperation's going: "Getting there," I tell them; quite ironic when you consider the masthead at the top of the page.

From the heart

A belated Happy New Year to you all. I knew, prior to going into hospital that I'd be out of commission for a wee while. Quite how long was/is something I'll have to judge on a day by day basis. Anyhoo, despite a couple of setbacks I'm now finally back ensonsed at Medd Towers. In between receiving visitors bearing hard boiled eggs and nuts I've also been penning a thank you letter to the hospital. In the last 30 days or so a number of very special NHS workers (they know who they are) who between them, it's no exagerration to say, saved my life. And for that I know I shall never be able to fully thank them. Not by a long chalk.  

Anyway, enough about me. How are you all doing? How was your Christmas and New Year? Good, bad or indifferent I'm sure it was well doucumented. Mine normally would have been but as I spent Christmas day, my birthday and New Year on an isolation ward, I can honestly say that my camera never saw as much as a bit of tinsel. However, my phone did come out to record one very special event: during one of my many explorations of my new heart (I lost count of the number of chest X-rays, ECGs & echo cardiograms I had while I was in there) I was asked to look at how magnificently my new aortic heart valve is performing...

That's quite enough exertion for now. I'm not sure if I'll be able to write anything meaningful at this time; I will, however, endeavour to visit other blogs and even leave the odd comment. In the meantime, it's good to be back. J x.

I didn't have the heart to tell you

I've known for quite a while that things haven't been right, you just know don't you? Speaking to and seeing various medical bods, I knew in the summer that I would have to have major surgery. I met my surgeon on 20 August who told me as much and talked me thru the procedure in some detail. He told me then that he would like to see me 'sooner rather than later.' Although he explained that I was in no imminent danger, my condition will only get worse and left unattended will result in death. That kind of focuses the mind.

We all know about the seven and a half million people currently sitting on various NHS waiting lists so I had no real expectation of being seen this side of the new year. My surgeon, however, had other plans. He said that all things being equal he saw 12 weeks as being realistic. His PA rang me yesterday: my surgery is scheduled for 6 December.

Apologies for my previous vague and ambiguous stabs at trying to tell you  something was 'up'. But until I'd got a concrete date I didn't know how to play this. Thus far, I've been drip feeding information to close friends and family on a need to know basis. So, I guess, this is me coming out. I've been told that I'll be in hospital for five days, gradually working towards a full recovery in three months. Just writing this down has been cathartic. Message ends. 

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I'll keep writing until I go in to hospital (it keeps me sane, you know that); December's Photo Challenge will still happen and that will tie things up quite neatly - two full years of your wonderful photographs (thank you for all the sunrises and sunsets you've being sending me). The photo at the top of the page was taken last night, minutes before I got rid of the goatee. I started growing it in August and said to myself I'd shave it off only when I got a date for my surgery. J x

Don't think twice, the time is right

I remember telling you back in April that I'd written my first new song in bloody ages. Well, eight months in (and a showcase gig to boot in September) and I've now got eight (count 'em) new songs. That's practically an album's worth! Well it would be if I were to record them; yep, that's my 2025 project. Tho' any mention of the word 2025 is all a bit tentative at the moment as I may well be sitting out the first part of the year*. 

Anyway, back to the songs. Tomorrow's Third Thursday Songwriters meet up at the Winchester will see me playing my latest ditty. It's called This is Your Life and is my stab at writing something both uplifting and, dare I say, inspirational; September and October's tunes were, if not bleak, then certainly on the dark side! So as this will probably be my last one for the year, I'd like to go out on something of a 'high'. I've arranged it so that the brass (I know a great trombone player) I can hear in my head can be overlaid in the studio to make me sound like I know what I'm doing.

Another more imminent project, however, is something I'm starting this weekend. I'm putting together another photo book - a companion piece to Battersea and Beyond. It'll be a similar format with 30 odd new photographs with maybe a bit more text this time. I've got a long list of around 75 pics and I'll be spending Sunday afternoon knocking it into shape and coming up with a zappy title (as opposed to the non-zappy title that I'm currently calling it in my head). In an ideal world I'd like to have it completed and back from the printers in 2/3 weeks but depending on how the cards fall next month (which will be out of my hands) I may not be able to distribute it till next year. Bear with.

*Apologies if this reads a bit, how can I say, mysterious (I'm not trying to be coy) - I will let everyone know (some of you know already) what's occurring when I know for sure what's happening and when... 

Indestructable?

Unlike a certain Paul Metcalfe a.k.a. Captain Scarlet I am fully aware of my mortality, my mortalness. But if you know me then you'll also know I don't dwell on the big stuff (conquest, war, famine, death), instead I tend to get bogged down in the weeds of triviality and nonsense: my obsession with all things 70s and this blog, 'Are We There Yet?', for example, being perfect distractions from a lot of the heavier (darker, even) stuff that may or may not be lurking around the next corner. But pretty soon I am going to have to address something pretty big, something even more important than much of what lies in the left hand margin of this blog. I'll leave it at that for now. It is the weekend after all and the sun is shinning; let's not bring the mood down. At least not today.

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And it was only today I learned that Ray Davies name-checks Captain Scarlet on the Village Green Preservation Society album. I must have known that before. Mustn't I?

The Kinks - Daylight (1968)

TopPop

In 1974 glam was still alive and kicking - Sweet, Slate, Mud, T Rex and Alice Cooper were continuing to put the fear of God into our parents every Thursday evening. Top of the Pops was still very much the launch pad that could jettison your latest single from the lower reaches of the charts one week to Top 5 the next. There was no other show quite like it. Or was there? Many European countries had similar shows that showcased indigenous and imported chart sounds. Holland for example had TopPop which ran from 1970-1988.

I'm not 100% sure if this lot ever made an appearance on the show. Their name was short-lived (as probably was this 1974 single) - Heart in America were just becoming a thing. But their Dutch namesake sure made a splendid racket.

Heart - Lovemaker (1974)