The Church of the Wholly Undecided

Last night I saw Les Barker at Marske folk club. I've never been to see - to hear - a real-life comic poet before, but I'm glad I paid the paltry £4 to see him - what a talented guy. Highlights of the evening were (poems I can't find on t'internet): "The Inflatable Boy" (boy who attacks inflatable headmaster/school/self with inflatable pin and is told by said headmaster "you've let me down, you've let your school down but most of all, you've let yourself down..."), and the "Folk Club Disaster" (read by somebody else in the club) in which disgruntled miners - so often dying in folk songs - sing about a folk club disaster in which the "Red Lion" pub collapses into a mine....You really have to hear Les read these poems to get the whole flavour, so why not listen to his excellent diatribe against the "war" on "terror" and then imagine him reading the following poems. Here's a short funny:

DISASTER AT SEA

It was a calm, still day in Yarmouth,
The channel clear and wide,
As the last of the timber sailing ships
Sailed out on the evening tide.

They never saw that ship again;
They searched when it was light,
But that fine old timber vessel sank
That clear and peaceful night.

No one knows what happened
On that night in 1910;
But the crew and her cargo of woodpeckers
Were never seen again.

And this superb, funny yet so serious poem:

THE CHURCH OF THE WHOLLY UNDECIDED

Brothers and sisters;
I speak to you today in the Church of the wholly undecided;
I wanna hear you say "Yeah!"
I wanna hear you say "No!"

We are gathered here together,
Sister side by side with brother,
To proclaim we are Agnostic;
Don't know one way or the other.
In this, we won't be shaken,
Though hard the winds may blow;
In doubt we are united
And we cry: "We do not know!"

Brothers and sisters;
I wanna hear you say "Errrrrrrrrrrrr!"
I wanna hear you say "There are two sides to this, you know!"

We hold no fear of persecution,
It pains us not to be derided
As we stand here in the Church
Of the Wholly Undecided.
Oh my brothers and my sisters,
I know I speak for you
When I say we know for certain
That we haven't got a clue.

Brothers and sisters;
I wanna hear you say "It's beyond my comprehension!"
I wanna hear you say "I dunno."

I believe that some believe
That only their beliefs are true;
Do I believe what they believe?
I don't believe I do.
O my friends, be ye contented,
For ignorance is bliss;
We stand foursquare behind our message
And we don't know what it is.

Brothers and sisters;
I wanna hear you say "I am not a sheep!"
I wanna hear you say "I will not mindlessly do everything I am told!"

We know that we don't know,
So let our vision still be pure;
We are Agnostic Fundamentalists;
We're fundamentally unsure.
Peace, my sisters and my brothers;
The Agnostic does not smite;
We are tolerant of others;
There's a chance they may be right.

Brothers and sisters;
I wanna hear you say "Death to nobody whatsoever!"
I wanna hear you say "The infidel might have a good point, you know!"
I want you all to clap now.


Shouting back each "I wanna hear you say..." (even the baited "mindlessly" line) - we were a church of agnostics! "Death to nobody whatsoever!" rang particularly true, given the current state of affairs in the world, where people are (still!) dying and killing for religious "principles" that apparently supersede the most important religious principle of all - the sanctity of life. This book is winging its way from the Amazon for me, I hope to furnish this blog with merry quotes therefrom.

And the Folk? Pretty terrible, in the main. I remember why I stopped going to folk clubs. It's like going to a talent contest every week, but always seeing the same "talent". There are a few gems, but honestly, some of these people need taking to one side, and in the tactful way a friend would tell a friend about an unsavoury breath problem, be advised to STOP. Please. They clap because you've finished, not because of the song...

Yet I do love a lot of good folk music, and there was that to be had last night, too. Particularly a young girls fiddle playing, which was captivating. Probably had something to do with her being a young female though, a rare creature in these climes.

I'm glad I went last night for another reason: Rachel Unthank and the Winterset are playing Saltburn - that's my home town! - next Saturday, so I've got some tickets booked for that. Heard them on BBC6music, and liked them a lot. Seems she too sings about dead miners though...

Edward

Last Thursday, Bex had a boy, who we've named Edward. It was a long traumatic affair - an induction followed by an emergency cesarean section, and that almost 24 hours after Bex admitted herself into hospital. The end result is, of course, what counts, and we have a lovely healthy (9lbs9oz) baby - a son and a brother. We couldn't be happier.

Bex really wanted a natural birth, but it seems that she would never have been able to have a natural birth because Edward was a brow presentation, a rare complication in which the baby is in effect looking "back over" instead of straight up (with his chin tucked in) thereby presenting a far larger surface area - much too large to be delivered naturally. I think Edward knew he was overdue - 3 weeks overdue to be precise - and was looking for the way out!

I don't understand how this was missed on the scan we had though, on Wednesday. If it had been noticed at that time Bex could have been spared what was in her own words "the worst pain I have ever felt" - much worse than her first experience of labour with Joni. I suppose this was because the drugs that were put into her veins to stimulate contractions were in effect causing Bex to push hard against a wall. And that was dangerous too - every time she pushed, Eds heart rate was going down. Why did it take until 9.30 AM (induction started at 1 AM) to realize the position? Tired midwives and doctors? The "day" shift spotted the problem straight away. If things had turned out for the worse, perhaps I would enquire further, but I don't suppose there's much point crying over milk not spilt. Anyway, quite the opposite: we thank everyone involved with the birth of our son at James Cook Hospital, Middlesbrough, because I know that without your help, I would now be without a wife, or a child, or both. This birth couldn't have happened naturally, so either mum or baby wasn't going to make it if that was the only option we had.

As it turned out, Bex experienced (and I observed) a cesarean. The whole process was surprisingly quick: I had Edward in my arms 20 minutes after the operation started. He was pulled, crying immediately, from Becky, and after cutting the chord (as I did with Joni) I held him against my chest for 30 minutes - "skin to skin". Becky couldn't, although she was fully awake (diamorphine was used to inhibit any sensations from her lower body) so I stepped in, and held him, covered in blood and gunk - it was beautiful! He stopped crying straight away, and didn't cry until I handed him back to the midwives to be weighed. He kept looking for my milk - that's right, he didn't find any, poor boy. He got chest hairs in his mouth instead ;-) He was soon satisfied though, as Bex was stitched back together in about 30 minutes.

Edwards been a really good boy so far - sleeping through the night, only crying when he's hungry. He's observant too, looking around him all the time, and he's strong - you have to keep tight hold of him when he pushes his head back and his legs out! I'm going to have to learn how to play football I think, so I have something to show him...anyway, we have some great photos up on Flickr, some of the best ones are below - and a video below too (which will autoplay in Firefox, but behave itself in Internet Explorer).

Edward Compilation
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