Cuma, Cuma, Cuma, Cuma, Cuma Comedienne

When I was a youngster, my primary school was emphatically encouraging. "You can be whatever you want to be."  I wrote down that I wanted to be a comedian. It was on my mind at the time as Culture Club had just released their hit single 'Karma Chameleon'. Obviously I didn't hear it quite correctly, but it became the voice of purpose within my head.  My mum put this up in the kitchen and everyone who read it bust out laughing. It felt like a promising start. 

I'm from a very 'down to earth' sort of a family.  There is my uncle, Daley Star, a bit of a spiv. Growing up in London, I soon learnt how to read him.  Uncle Les was from the Midlands, I can't remember exactly where, but we moved between them, to Welwyn Garden City, which isn't a city, and we lived in a third floor flat, so no garden.  I guess we became less 'down to earth' than I thought.  

When at school, I took advantage of meeting with a peripatetic careers advisor.  She looked very serious when I discussed with her my plans for future employment.  I was impressed by the frown on her brow, quite a contrast to the responses I had become used to.  After searching through a number of books she had before her, she confessed that she knew nothing about any qualifications that might be needed for my chosen profession.  I reassured her that I had no intention of wasting my life by pursuing qualifications. However, for the first time in my life, a seed of doubt had been sown.  The lady left that room looking quite perturbed.  Humour is sometimes uncomfortable, but this lady looked distressed. 

The trouble with humour is that it is very difficult to acquire.  It doesn't just happen, and if you seek it, it runs from you squealing.  It's a similar experience for those who seek humility.  The more you strive to catch hold of it, the more it step just an inch away.

The key to being funny is to spot it in life, when you are out and about, and write it down immediately.  The  first time a thing strikes you you have this feeling that it will never disappear from your mind; but sure enough, like a dream, within minutes it vanishes leaving only tantalising impressions, reminding you of what you have lost, and that it was good.

The next important principle is are how the joke is delivered, and as every knows, 'timing'.  Timing is so crucial, like the triangle player in the orchestra who counts and counts, and then strikes the chime.  Out of time, and the whole orchestra stops, turns and glares.  

An example of the need for timing occurred recently.  As Donald Trump was ejected from Twitter, an opportunity for a joke arises.  Like good food, the use-by date should be read carefully, and the joke delivered before this, else it come as a disappointment.  "I know how he feels.  I was chucked off Twitter too for bad jokes."  

Jokes are cultural.  The British culture appreciates self-abasement.  Americans see this as pathetic weakness.  Americans like aggressive, violent jokes, whereas Brits wince at the harshness.  To me the use of gratuitous sex in humour is a sign the comedian has run out of good ideas.  

I never became a comedian.  I tried, but I applied for a job as a humorist celebrant, which I assumed would offer great opportunities.  I have been marrying people ever since, and it doesn't seem to matter.  Whatever I say, they seem to be very happy.   

 

The Work of Whiteness

 Dear Alison,

 I was pleased to have attended the Tavi special.  (I missed most of the discussion because I dropped out early)  - Only joking, I stayed to the end. (It was noted that when the conversation became challenging, about 100 people from the 600 people attending dropped out of the call.)

 I found Helen quite esoteric, which I think fits with the analytical psychotherapy perspective, but I prefer straight talking.  It reminded me of the Delphic oracle- “The blank down the middle….splitting”,  it’s a special ‘hidden’ language.  We stroke our chins and feel inspired.  I am joining 'their' culture by listening, so I respect them for this.

 I find the subject very powerful and fascinating.  Here are my thoughts:-

 Why do 75% of parents of white children not talk about race.  But perhaps they do but we don’t like what they say. 

 Children are born into varied levels of privilege.  All children born in the UK are born into privilege (on a world scale.)  As parents we shelter and protect our children.  We would find it difficult to put them into a more vulnerable place; to give up that privileges.  The world conspires to maintain the status quo, and I, in my profession, am part of that.  Our salaries are paid for by the sweat of the empire and ongoing exploitation.  

Inheritance is the greatest driver of advantage.  How many of us were watching that seminar from expensive London houses with nice furniture and fittings?  Our ‘children’ (in the broadest sense) will inherit our good fortune.   Our qualifications are difficult to get because we want to hang on to the privilege.  We feel we have earned it.  We are ‘doctors’ (in the broadest sense) and highly experienced.    A few scholarships for expensive courses for black people equals ‘appeasement’. And do we what black people to join us white people, or to change us?

 I have always thought that when white middle class (non-liberal) professionals send their children to schools such as  New college in Leicester (in a so called deprived neck of the woods), all schools will be fine.

 Just as you can’t have a conversation about ‘blackness’ without talking about abuse of power, you can’t talk about whiteness without talking about abuse.  With power there is abuse of power.  The two reside together. 

 I think the fear of the 'other' for white people (including myself) is the horror that if the power was reversed (as in the book Noughts and Crosses), what would happen to me?  - retribution?  This is why minorities must be kept minorities, why there is a fear in the country that Leicester will become the first non-white majority city.

 Yours

 

Art Therapy to cope with a Hatchet Job

My team is the 'front door' to the service.

So, my place of work has decided that after twenty one years, my role should be scarified for the sake of nasty Covid 19.  "It's a crisis", but training and annual leave are not being canceled.  Why are mental health workers being taken from the front line to vaccinate if we have a crisis within our community of patients?  Doesn't look like a crisis to me.  

When I came waiting times for non-urgent cases where 12-18 months, Communication with other services was very poor, and there was a lot of duplication of different services across the community.  I feel very fortunaety to have worked at a time when all this changed.  We had a multi agency project that put children's needs first.  After all we didn't really care about the needs of each other services  and we only shared the children.  We created 'bespoke' packages of care around children focusing on all their needs, not just health, care or educational needs.  We often did less, and were more effective.  We did distrust each other and kept a close eye on what each other's service was up to.  But we also were very motivated, and enjoyed ourselves.  This went on for eleven years before the Banks failed and 25% cuts were brought in to the local authority.  Cooperation was cut.  There was jealousy that the NHS was less affected.  In the NHS admin and managers were cut (no loss of front-line staff, so the system became a shambles.  Waiting times were allowed to increase and my service has returned to it's default position.

1) Insular- no need to communicate with outside agencies.  It's their look out.

2) Long waiting lists.  (People will understand the NHS is over stretched).

3) Early intervention is our lowest priority.  Crisis is the key to the NHS.

So the wheel has gone round and it feels like it is time for me to get off.  Funny to be back at the same place I started, but I saw some great times, and we had some great successes.

Our work is being taken over by the managers. 
It will fail, and they know it.  Their hope is that no one will bother calling.

Our team has always been viewed with suspicion, but we have allies.  Now there is no one.