Writing and recording an album with my group, the Sweetheart Revue, has been therapeutic and provided precious solace in the aftermath of my diagnosis
On 25 June 2019, it was a glorious sunny day in Glasgow. I spent the morning cheerfully packing suitcases with my wife, Jackie. I was a script writer by trade, and a songwriter with my Americana band the Sweetheart Revue, which had been ambling along for 14 years. For the first time in my precarious freelance career, I had money in the bank, a whole six months of work lined up, and we were flying out the next day for a special-treat holiday in Portugal with the kids. I had never felt so fortunate.
After lunch we walked our loving, neurotic mongrel Pepper by the River Kelvin. That’s when I got the call. I had been having headaches every day since
Christmas. My GP couldn’t explain them but was sure it was nothing serious. I finally had a CT brain scan just as the headaches seemed to be subsiding. Oh, the irony, I thought.
The situation’s getting pretty desperate, so it seems
But I’m remaining calm among the ashes of our dreams
They gave me months to a year, I tried to give them right back
Then I did pretty well under a radio attack