I was on stage in Setubal, Portugal, nearing the end of a lovely concert. The venue was a cinema, so the stage was the bit in front of the screen, and I guess it was a strange shape, and the edges weren't marked. Everything was pitch black, except for two spotlights pointing upwards into my face from the floor. I couldn't see, basically. I'd asked for the lighting to be changed from the stage, but to no avail. 

So I started to edge forwards, feeling for the front of the stage with my bare feet, to check where it was and see if I could climb down to go play a song amongst the audience, which I love doing. And somehow I just missed it and stepped off. 

I can't remember falling, but I must've taken the full weight on my left elbow. I guess it was about a 2 metre drop to a concrete floor. I'd learn later that the end of my humerus had snapped almost clean off. My guitar, hanging at my right side, was virtually unharmed. :/ 

Then it went like this: Ambulance. Nice paramedic with a mohawk. Hospital #1. Corridors with people on trolleys who looked too sick to be on a trolley in a corridor. Reassuringly assertive doctor gentleman. X-ray. “Is fractured. Is very bad.” Massive plaster cast. Needs surgery. Change flights. Go to hotel. Sleep oddly well. 

Wake up. Joao helps me get dressed. Airport. Guitar, two suitcases. Ryanair Human Tolerance Experiment™️. I power through. Feel strangely unstoppable. Manchester. Natasha arrives with friend Ruth to collect my car and drive us home. 

Hospital #2. CT scan. Book surgery. Make all the doctors watch videos of me playing guitar so they can see I NEED THIS ELBOW FIXED AND WORKING PLEASE

Surgery two days later (thank you NHS🤍🤍🤍). Make jokes with the anesthetist as I'm wheeled into theatre. Mr Bowe mends my humerus with two 28mm titanium screws. He nails it  smashes it does a perfect job. 

Go home. Enjoy floating on pain meds. Anesthetic wears off. Pain is like being crushed into a small cube. I rage against it. 

Pain gets less. And… that's it. Reality time.

And suddenly, it hits me. I've potentially lost my income, my career, my life's passion, my expressive voice, my connection to the wrold, my value to the world. My superpower, my hiding place. My songs.

And yeah, I get pretty depressed. Shut myself off, didn't really talk to anyone for a while. But I did not turn to drink or drugs. 

I tell myself it could've been worse, it could've been my neck that broke. I reply that I wish it had been my neck. But I don't mean it. I choose not to mean it. 

Anyway. Now I'm reconnecting. I'm really sorry for not being responsive to people's absolutely lovely messages and comments. I'm here now, if not brimming with confidence.

Right now my elbow moves but not much, and it's very stiff and weak. I'm doing physio, seriously I do nothing else. Getting one degree more bend, half a degree more stretch. The doctors and physios are very optimistic that I'll get everything back, or nearly everything. I hate that “nearly” so much, but they've all watched Passionflower and they're still totally confident. So I'm BEING POSITIVE. Most of the time.

I'm working towards a goal of being back playing for my Bootcamp in the summer. And then for my GB/NI tour in the Autumn. (It was gonna be a mammoth 30 date mega tour, but we've kept it short.)

And I've been making plans for other stuff. Thinking, writing, saving my mind from atrophy.

Anyway. I love everybody, in case you didn't know that.