From sadness sometimes some good may come
Mal Pope is a songwriter who co-produced the film Jack To A King, about the 10-year rise of Swansea City FC
THE older I get the more I realise that I am just a storyteller. While other people have careers where they build bridges or plant gardens or move mountains, I tell stories. I remember one of the first radio interviews I did when I was 13. I was asked about the inspiration behind the songs I had written which had earned me a recording contract. I proudly asserted that they had been written from experience. I suppose by the age of 12 I had had my heart broken a couple of times in the playground, but in reality I expect the stories I told through the songs were stories I had read or seen played out on TV.
As the years have passed I have collected more and more stories. As opportunities have arisen I have always tried my best to say yes if possible.
I still remember when Max Boyce rang and asked if I would like to join his band for a tour of South East Asia. Little did I know that saying yes would change my life forever. It would open my eyes, literally, to a whole new world. I will never forget looking out of the window of the plane and seeing the mountains of China pass below us for hour after hour. There was that evening spent in a restaurant on Kowloon singing Welsh hymns to a bewildered local audience. That night spent trading songs with a group of singing Chilean waiters in a restaurant in windy Wellington, New Zealand.
My love affair with the Deep South started with saying yes to present a TV show about Black Gospel music. It was on that trip that Pat Rasberry from the Tupelo Film and TV Commission asked if I would return the following year to perform at the Tupelo Gumtree Festival. I don’t think a fee or expenses were ever mentioned or discussed. I said yes and returned again and again, year after years and as the years passed so grew my collection of stories.
Maybe the bravest or possible most foolish decision I ever made was to take 6 months off from my regular TV and radio work to go on tour across Europe with Art Garfunkel. The tour was an amazing opportunity, but it didn’t come with a pay check. I would have to fund myself and also pay the mortgage back home. All these years later sharing those stories still helps to pay the bills.
This week I had to share a story that in truth I never had any intention of ever speaking about out loud.
I can still remember the start of that beautiful September Saturday morning. I was on my way to the Swansea.com Stadium where I was going to be hosting one of the match-day lounges. It was the start of the season with a new manager and whilst nervous about how things were going the optimist in me was looking forward to the game.
On the way I had a call from home saying there were some issues about my daughter who was 21 weeks pregnant. Over the years of being a father and grandfather I have had similar calls but usually these ‘false alarms’ always work themselves out and life goes on.
The game against Bristol City started well with a fine goal from Liam Cullen. Sadly in the second half the tide turned, and two quick goals sent the Swans to another early season defeat. Part of my role on a match day is to chat to the guests post-match. I try my best to congratulate the winning supporters and commiserate with the losers. After a
number of missed calls I manged to find a quiet corner to check in with home. It soon became clear that this was no false alarm.
If I’m honest the next two weeks are a bit of a blur. Within a few days Gilliver had been born and the Singleton Hospital Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, NICU, jumped into action. My daughter was given a room in the hospital. Living close to the hospital meant we were able to be there daily to support her and also to look after the rest of the family.
I wanted to do something, to try to fix this. Even though I’m pretty useless practically I have met lots of incredible people from all over the world. On that first evening I was on the phone to medical expert friends asking for advice and also a realistic prognosis. I sent out messages to people of faith I knew from all over the world asking them to prayer for Gulliver.
Having tried everything it soon became clear that little Gulliver was just too small. As a family we were invited to come to the NICU to hold him and say our goodbyes. Oddly enough we laughed and smiled and sang that evening as well as shedding so many tears. As I left I said to the nurses if there was anything I could ever do to say thank you all they had
to do was ask. On the day of the funeral the sun shone, we cried as the little coffin was carried through the church... and then we headed to Joes for an ice cream.
It was little while later I was approached by the Swansea Bay Health Charity. We were lucky to be so close to Singleton Hospital that we could stay at home and be there in five minutes. Other families might live much further away. Some might have gone into labour whilst on holiday and a long way from home.
Cwtch Clos was a row of five two-bedroom houses on site where families could stay while their babies were in NICU. Sadly, the houses needed some TLC, well actually about £180,000 worth of TLC.
Would I mind sharing my story as a way of getting the story out there?
It was back in February that I used one of these Saturday columns to share the story. It was another match day and if I’m honest I had other things on my mind when I arrived at the stadium. As our stood outside my ‘lounge’ one by one people came and hugged me. They said they didn’t know my story and they would do whatever they could to help. A little later people who I had known for years came up to me and said they had also lost children and that they wanted to help the Cwtch Clos Appeal.
A few weeks ago I got a call from Katie at Swansea City. She told me that every year the club choses a charity they would like to support. As she talked I thought back to the amazing amount of publicity and fundraising the club had given last season to Maggie’s Swansea. I almost dropped the phone when she said that this year they wanted to support Cwtch Clos.
A week to so ago I went to the stadium to tell Gulliver’s Story and this week the club launched their appeal. Now if they asked me to help repair the Cwtch Clos houses I would be useless. I don’t have £180,000 to give to the appeal. I am a storyteller. My job is to tell stories. Sometimes I tell stories about showbiz parties or music superstars. Sometimes I tell stories about travelling the world on trains boats and planes.
Maybe this is the most important and hardest story I will have to tell.