The Hollow Man (A Blog written for the 'Advent Blog' Series)

When I first thought about contributing again to Kate Griffiths-Lambe's wonderful annual Advent Blog series*, this year's theme, "Heights, Hearts & Hollows", initially had me ruminating on last year's cardiac bypass, my recovery, redundancy and further reflections thereon. But the more I thought about it, the more I realised that I had kind of done that to death, in a series of blogs, tweets and facebook posts. I'm on a continuing journey here, one that I'm being supported on by friends, family, my personal and professional networks and, critically, paid for - and revelatory - professional counselling. So that's 'Heights and Hearts' taken care of. I'm not going to revisit that stuff here. 

Instead, I've let the Universe slowly draw me towards the "Hollows" element of the theme. It's niggled away at me for a few days. I don't really know why. Maybe it's the onomatopoeic quality of the word. It conjours up dark, empty, echoing places for me, and not necessarily in a bad way either. There's a weird attraction in it. Something to explore.

And a particular phrase kept popping into my brain; an evocative, elusive, seductive whisper - 'The Hollow Man'.

I've been sitting with him for a few days now, not knowing who or what he is, or why he should be so insistent on being seen. I've conjoured images of scarecrows, robots (Westworld?), the Wizard of Oz (Scarecrow again, "If I only had a brain", and Tin Man, "If I only had a heart"). I remembered the 2000 film with Kevin Bacon, an alternative and darker modern take on HG Wells's "The Invisible Man".

Now, these are all fairly empty manifestations of The Hollow Man, suggesting something missing, something not whole. Something sad. So why was (am) I so taken with the name? I even Googled 'The Hollow Man' to see if I was digging up some long-forgotten or buried memory that would explain his presence. I wasn't.

But then, up popped TS Eliot's poem, "The Hollow Men".

I'm not good with poetry. Never really got it. Still don't, to be honest. Funny that, for someone who claims to love words and takes pride in good use of vocabulary, grammar, spelling, tries to write well and reads a lot. I kinda get Burns and Shakespeare, but most other poetry tends to leave me cold.

So imagine my surprise when, in the first few lines of Eliot's poem, I was presented with a vivid scarecrow image again, in the voice of one of his Hollow Men...

We are the hollow men

We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats' feet over broken glass

In our dry cellar

There's more and, to be honest, it's not the most uplifting read. I had to search further to get some academic insights into the background and some suggestions as to the themes and meanings of the work. But slowly I've started to understand why "the Hollow Man" has been clamouring for my attention - a) there's a lot of them about and b) I don't want to be one myself!

Men - OK, people, but for the most part, it is men - with a hole where their heart should be. With little or no compassion, no respect or feeling for 'other', no capacity to empathise, afraid to see or hear a different colour or opinion. Bigots, trolls, abusers, cowards - psychopaths, even. And then there's the passive, purposeless, complacent people, happy to go with the flow, devoid of ambition or desire to learn and experience new things. Heads full of straw. Stuck. Sad.

We've seen - and, in some cases, been - both types of Hollow Man this year. And next year we will have to live with the consequences. My challenge for 2017 is to not 'wallow in the hollow', but to be braver, to stand up and speak up, to challenge divisive, lazy, anti-intellectual intolerance, both professionally and personally. I posted a tweet in a recent #LDInsight tweetchat - "On this journey, have realised I could have been braver, am still carrying anger, am impatient & now I can do anything".

I shall try.

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* Do visit Kate's blog site and wonder at the diversity of thinking and talent showcased by this annual guest blog series. I'm proud to have been a part of it again this year.

Three years on - On taking my Son to University

2014 is shaping up to be a milestone year for us, and I will no doubt blog some reflections on that, with the hindsight of distance and time, next year.  For today though, I wanted to share some thoughts and feelings, which reference a previous blog from September three years ago Reflections on taking my Daughter to University and touch on taking my son, Sam, to university in Farnham yesterday.

Having re-read that blog, when I took Child 1, Natasha, to university, I am reminded why my social media profiles all start with the description "Husband, Dad..." followed by my professional description. That's where my priorities lie and have lain for the last 32 years, since I met Mandy. Up until then, I saw and validated myself by my career/job role as an actor, a role for which I was prepared to move anywhere in the country, for lousy money, mostly to do average work and with no career ladder or prospects in sight. That all changed after I met Mandy in 1982 and we became 'an item' and later married ("Husband"), moved to Hove to start a family and welcomed Tash and Sam into the world in 1992 and 1995 respectively ("Dad"). And I moved into Learning & Development ("the professional description").

So three years ago, I said about taking Tash to uni, "Niall's first rule of parenthood - there are no rules!  It's the ultimate seat-of-your-pants, non-formal, on-demand, experiential learning opportunity.  Just as you've managed to reflect and re-apply what you've just learned, the goalposts move and off you go again.  What works for child 1 does not necessarily work for or apply to Child 2.  They are their own people, from day 1, and I learned that I had to go with the flow, adapt and flex, whilst we tried to maintain a safe, loving and nurturing Home for them - and us - in which to grow."

And boy did they grow. Tash is currently in Cambodia, on a month-long tour of Vietnam, Cambodia and Thailand before coming back at the end of this month to do her final year of Interior Architecture & Design at Nottingham Trent University, after a year's interning at two design partnerships in London.  Sam starts at the  University of Creative Arts in Farnham UCA web page on Monday, having taken a year out after 6th form college to work and to reflect on what he wanted to do next. He interned for 6 weeks for a television production company, worked for a well-known electrical retailer and became the in-house sales expert for televisions, he continued to go the movies, to write and publish his ever-insightful movie reviews on his YouTube channel See his latest review here and finally decided that working towards a BA in Film Production at University was the way he wanted to go. Mandy and I had nothing to do with that decision and are thrilled that he has found his path via his own passions.

He got a place at the UCA in Farnham, but didn't get into the Halls of Residence. So, singlehandedly (with a bit of prompting & support from Mandy and me), he used facebook to hook up with some other 'Freshers' in the same boat, took on the responsibility of finding a student house to let, organised the legals and (more importantly?) the broadband and wifi, and even delegated some of the other moving in tasks to the other boys who were going to be sharing with him.

Yesterday, I took him and his 'stuff' to Farnham and helped him move in.  So now starts the next phase of my "Husband, Dad..." journey. Mandy and I are now 'empty-nesters'. Indeed, as I write this blog, I am sitting at the strangely-empty desk in Sam's room, able to see the carpet and with the windows wide open (if you got older teenagers, you'll understand those comments).

And I am sad. 

Joyful, but sad. Joyful for Sam, starting his new adventure and the next stage of his life; and sad, 'cos now our role has changed, as have the dynamics in our home. I will miss Sam's apropos-of-nothing conversations about random film stuff, the smell of over-cooked pizza and garlic bread, the hugs when I get home from work, the 'hey' from the hallway as he comes home and goes straight upstairs to his room... the general 'presence' of this charming, articulate, loving and funny young man in our shared living space. I hope his new house mates and university colleagues appreciate him as much as we do!

Mandy and I look forward to continuing to be part of Sam and Tash's lives for as long as we can, as they both grow and develop further; we'll just be a bit more hands-off.  But equally, we'll never be more than an email, text, tweet, facebook, Instagram or Skype away.

They can run, but they can't hide...