If we could ...

Saw Stephen Fry interviewed by Michael Parkinson the other night. He is always a treat (Fry, not Parky), but this time I came away with something extra.

Apparently Fry had recently been involved in making a film or documentary series about depression and bipolar / manic depression. Of course, his own history gives him a particular interest in and insight into such conditions, but there was one particular anecdote which affected me deeply.

He said that he asked a group of creative people that if they had a button in front of them that with one push would remove their depressive episodes, psychoses or any other symptoms of their illness, would they press it? One button which would remove the blackness, the suffering, the desperation for ever.

He said only three of the many people he asked said they would. The rest were too afraid that their creativity and personal make-up was so entwined with their depressive periods that they would lose too much. They were simply not prepared to give up what they regarded as an integral part of their personas, and too afraid to risk being left without what may be a crucial impetus for their creativity.

Having grown up with and around several depressive / creative people, and inherited many of the genes (alas, more depressive than creative sometimes!), it wasn't really a surprise, but it was interesting to see such feelings illustrated so clearly. So many people are genuinely willing to suffer genuine darkness to feed their art.

And in case you think this post is far too serious, I just re-read it and the first thing I thought of was that fantastic Bob Dylan pastiche which Neil Innes did on the Rutland Dirty Weekend Songbook album:

"Ladies and gentlemen ... er ... I've suffered for my music, and now it's your turn ..."

Luxury on a Desert Island

Just been over at Vallyp's blog (http://vereeniging.blogspot.com/) She has continued the Desert Island theme by asking which one luxury item you would choose to take.

My first instinct was to follow Gypsy Noir's champagne lead and take one fabulous bottle of red, but I'd probably go mad deciding when to open it. I decided it would need to be something I could re-use endlessly.

With long-term survival in mind, I think I might opt for a top-quality down duvet with a beautiful fine cotton cover. I have a tendency to dive for bed when things get too much, and I think this would provide some essential back-to-the-womb therapy for the less idyllic moments.

Failing that, perhaps a huge book of great comedy scripts? I can't imagine life without humour, and I suspect the possibilities on my island may be limited to giggling at the odd rudely-shaped coconut. (Or cactus, if it really is desert).

Ideally though, a laptop with broadband and unlimited battery supply would be the ultimate, and would provide me with news, music, comedy, literature and art. I suspect however this is cheating. How technologically sophisticated is this island, Val?

Until next time ...
Margie.