John Ross with former pupil, artist Tom Flint

Halifax enjoys an evening with Ralph Steadman at the opening of his exhibition 

With Ralph 

Ralph being interviewed

Oh what a night. (late September back in '63....love that song) The private view of Ralph Steadman's retrospective at the #Artworks 1830 gallery, and the culmination of two weeks of whirlwind PR stuff. 

I like serendipity, although I actually believe these days, not so much in 'happy chance', as God's perfect and amazing plan. Referring back to the aforementioned song it WAS late September, but 2013. My High Sheriff sister had booked me to accompany her, because of my artistic inclinations, to visit the independent art school and gallery in Halifax, the #Artworks. I had heard of it, but never been.

John Ross (a director and tutor) greeted us sporting his beret and enthusing about all things artworks. As we walked into the old mill, it was love at first sight for me. A class was sat round a large table in the midst of a drawing class. Around other parts of the former weaving shed easels were strewn liberally about and people of all ages, types and styles were at work. This was a place celebrating and enabling creativity to happen. We had the official tour with John Ross and Emma Wilson who has recently become involved on the artworks board. Her husband Nick produces #Pink Pig Sketchbooks and they are the generous sponsors of the Ralph Steadman exhibition. Also with lovely Lauren(tutor and girl wonder) and the amazing Debs - her story of a life transformed and healed by art was an inspiration...the Debs effect.

Towards the end of our visit as we looked round the soon to be opening #1830 gallery, there was mention that they could do with help on the PR front for the Steadman exhibition. With my journalist/PR bit of know how I offered my services and the next two weeks turned into a whirlwind of Ralph Ralph Ralph. Working with John and the utterly delightful Lauren, in Lauren's words, we 'got shizz done'. Man, we were on it. 

We were set to be on Look North and it was all going swimmingly, but the day before the opening they apologised and pulled out saying all would become clear. It did, when we discovered the beeping Prime Minister had chosen the same day as Ralph, to come and visit Halifax. No matter. We had a blast. The show was up and looking stunning in the beautiful #1830 gallery. Soon the man himself - with delightful daughter Sadie (Director of the Ralph Steadman Art Collection) and delightful granddaughter Grace arrived. Ralph was utterly warm, amenable, colourful, funny, inspiring and delightful. Within minutes I had become number one Ralph groupie. I loved his colourful spectacles, I loved his collection of fabulous necklace type things - one of them he told me, given to him by Hunter S T - who said 'put it on Ralph, it'll ward off evil spirits'. Sadie told me a few other tales re Hunter S T, private jets, large bowls of cocaine, and the time he came to stay:she found him so intense presumably unnerving,  that she refused to take her coat off for the duration of his stay.

What a fabulous preview night. Journalists came, people came, there was a long speech from John and a shorter one from Ralph. Ralph did loads of signing in his inimitable fashion. The next morning I went to the hotel where they were staying (in true groupie style)and took them for coffee at Dean Clough, before they headed back down south. I think they enjoyed Halifax - and we LOVED having them. 

You can see some pictures from the preview night on the Ralph Steadman Art Collection facebook page as well as on the artworks website: theartworks.org.uk. Check out thedebseffect.co.uk. And please please please, do not miss this opportunity to see the fabulous and wide ranging work - from Vietnam to Animal Farm, Alice in Wonderland to Leonardo da Vinci - of this internationally renowned artist/cartoonist here in Halifax. Wed.-Sat.10.30 - 16.00 and Sun. 14.00 - 17:00 at the 1830 gallery, Shaw Lodge Mills.

National Bipolar Awareness Day - and 30 years of the charity Bipolar UK

It's 19 years since I received my official diagnosis of what was back in those days called 'manic depression'. In my 20s in London I spent half my life (a few months at a time) as party girl. I was working as a radio journalist, living in Notting Hill, going to The Globe (a low key, trendy club - yummy food upstairs, downstairs into dark red smoky gloom for music and dancing), hanging out at the Ministry of Sound and Subterranea, and driving about in my British Racing Green Lotus Elan, otherwise known as 'baby'. At night with her dials all lit up red, there was nothing quite like cruising down the Kings Road in baby.
Ah but the other months. They were quite different. Alone at home, totally miserable, I was unable to take pleasure in anything. Gloom descended and that was it. I dragged myself to work at Broadcasting House and spent many a miserable hour hanging out the window on the fourth floor chain smoking.

In summer 1992 I summoned the energy to DO something. I fled to California to stay with my oldest, dearest friend who was married, living and working in Los Angeles. By the time I landed in the U.S. my low had become a high....and oh what fun I had. For a while.
I ended up in the Bay Area - doing a course in Culture and Creation Spirituality. I wrote a thesis about depression as spiritual awakening. I also faced another episode of deep dark depression, stocking up on sleeping pills, thinking how good it would be not to exist.

Of course I eventually came out into the light again - and still at this time - I had had no diagnosis, just a lot of talk therapy. By early 1994 my illness shifted into another gear. I had finished my course and moved with friends into Berkeley. There's all sorts of details but in short, I became psychotic. I was wandering about Berkeley at 5 in the morning in my party dress talking to roadsweepers and thinking I was going to some big party somewhere. There was an unusual warm wind - I thought I'd caused it. So many stories - but my friends (Peter Higgs son and his wife actually....forgive the name dropping but so chuffed about his nobel prize) - drove me to my therapist Suzy - I was past being able to drive Bertie (my fab old bright yellow Dodge Dart). Suzy asked if I wanted to go to hospital. I was so scared I surrendered, it didn't seem there was another option. So there I was - Cambridge graduate - admitted to the Langley Porter Hospital in San Francisco. Somehow that wasn't how it was meant to be. I was under the impression that a Cambridge degree led to a life of glittering prizes. Wrong. On arrival at Langley Porter I was bemused to say the least. I have a vague memory of conspiring with some guy called 'Randy' (naturally) to try and smoke - it wasn't allowed - but before I knew it I was transferred from the open to the locked unit - and put in 'isolation'.

But - and it's a big but - that is all in the past. It's been a hell of journey - from prolonged suicidal misery - to the awesome high of experiencing the amazing music and beauty of creation in a weird and wonderful way.

In 1995 I met my husband - back in Yorkshire. My lovely D has stuck by me - with great difficulty - through IT ALL (and still does). We have two amazing children - now 14 and 12.  In the past 10 years - to my great surprise God has come into my life and turned it around. He is doing a work in me, He has a great plan for me, to prosper me and not to harm me. He has given me NOT a spirit of fear, but a Spirit of power and of love and a sound mind ( from 2 Timothy 1:7) Amen to that.

I praise God for the wonderful campaigning work of the charity Bipolar UK - which supports and campaigns for Bipolar sufferers and their carers. Happy 30th Birthday Bipolar UK - and thank you

An 'up' day, cruising in 'baby' 

Dancing the night away at my 30th - on a high after months of depression

I was up at 5am this morning. I didn't intend to get up and stay up - in fact when I've done this I MUST go back to bed and rest,at least for a bit. I came down having woken with a whiff of something dog related - and not a little untoward - if you get my drift - reaching my nostrils. The old dog of the house our beloved 15 year old Border Collie Rufus doesn't usually. Seth our adored 4 year old handsome lurcher left me a big gift yesterday in the middle of the kitchen floor and the baby, 11/12 month old little poodly/terrier Nemo, recently arrived from Lanzarote (that's another story) - otherwise known to us as the Spanish terrorist (specialising in sofa wrecking and yapping at Seth's heels) or little shitster for obvious reasons) is still getting used to his new surroundings and has been known to do one or two things inside as opposed to out.

Anyway - after all that - no mess. But I was down - and in the lovely peace of the early morning, nothing I like more than getting a few jobs - folding washing, bit of admin - done and out of the way before the day starts and the young people are up and about. I am NOT a child, 14 year old Georgina tells me. She has a point. She's edging ahead of me height wise - and as for the quick crosswords we do in the Guardian - she's all there with her onions I tell you. And don't get me started on Dylan's computer skills. My 12 year old son frightens me sometimes with his wizardry at the pc, watch out world, you have been warned.

It's been a manic week. Busy busy busy. I have to remind myself a lot. To stop. Breathe. Psalm 46.10. Be still and know that I am God.

Monday I zoomed 130 miles up and then back down the motorway to Hayton near Carlisle. The memorial service for my dear friend Sara's parents who died within weeks of each other earlier this year. Mark and Roma Andrew. What a special, amazing couple, what a life they had. Met in Africa when they were working for the guides - and scouts. What an incredibly interesting, intelligent, different couple. What an honour to have known them so closely pretty much all my life. And Sara - my beloved friend, now an only child after losing her brother so tragically in a car accident way back in the 80s. She hasn't had an easy time of it. So I wanted to go and be there for her and for my friends Mark and Roma. It was a mad rush - walk dogs, make chicken curry pie and leave for Dorian and kids for tea...then jump in car, set off too late. It was further than I thought. No 'sat nav' just my route planner print out - heading up the M6. Boy I love those hills as the scenery opens out through the Lake District. Racing racing and made it by 2.15 (service began 2pm) - just in time to go and stand beside Sara - I felt the urge to go and hold her hand - as she - bless her - struggled to hold back the tears, talking of her parents. She managed though. She did a great job. It was a lovely informal service in the beautiful little village church. Then the sun shone warm and kind on us as we stood in the graveyard and their ashes were put beside Roma's parents, her sister, and Roma and Mark's lovely son William. May they all rest in peace.

The rest of the week was taken up with doing PR for the wonderful artworks in Halifax and the fantastic Ralph Steadman show which opens next week. #excited, it's going to be #amazing.

There was also some time with my sister in law Kim, who I run our church home group with. We met on Wednesday night for some prayer and planning before our group on Thursday. Group was great. So special and essential to carve out that time to be with spiritual brothers and sisters for fellowship and sit in the presence of the Holy Spirit. Totally reviving and restoring in the midst of the hecticness.

Another mad day of PR, dog walking, artworks, and kids on Friday. Errr that's it. My week. Sunday today. 'Planning' a quiet day. Please Lord. On that note I'm heading back to bed before girding my loins for the forthcoming week. Let the Lord direct my steps and make my way straight. Thank you. Amen