If music be the food of love…

Apr 20, 2026 threadofgold21

Is Orsino in love or just in love with the idea?

“If music be the food of love, play on,” says Duke Orsino at the very start of Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. Today, we often use that line to encourage more music to be played, in order to fuel more romance. Duke Orsino viewed things a little differently, seeing an excess of music as a type of aversion therapy; a way of helping cure him of his obsession with Olivia. He still attributes to music a mystical power, though.

Famously, the biblical David was called upon by King Saul to play the harp for him, in order to soothe Saul’s mental anguish: “And whenever the evil spirit from God came upon Saul, David took the lyre and played it with his hand, and Saul would be relieved and feel better…” (1Samuel 16.23). Here, music is shown to have healing powers.

We all have our favourite genres, bands, composers, singers, and we could all testify to the dramatic effects music can have on our mood. A particular piece of music can transport us onto a different plane, lighten our spirit. Music has the capacity to lift us out of despair (even if only temporarily), to relax and to energise.

Never more did I witness the magical power of music, than when working as a Chaplain in social care, in Leeds and Ilkley. As I have written before, it was an enormous privilege to work with such lovely elderly people, most of whom were living with some degree of dementia. Of course, the various forms of dementia bring many challenges and difficulties, both for the person living with the condition and those who love, care and support them. There was, however, one thing guaranteed to bring relief and a smile to everyone: MUSIC.

Whether it be a Frank Sinatra or Bing Crosby CD played during morning coffee, or a good, old fashioned ‘Songs of Praise’ sing along to classic hymns, in the afternoon, there wasn’t a single resident who wouldn’t join in, and many of them were word perfect. It was nothing short of miraculous. People whose memories had faded to such an extent that they often couldn’t recognise family members, would spring into life (sometimes quite literally – jumping up to dance). It was wonderful and amazing and almost unbelievable. The real magician was the music therapist, who visited the homes on a weekly basis. She masterfully waltzed around the room with her accordion, playing the popular music hall tunes, encouraging the residents with smiles and gestures, and bringing such an infectious vitality, that no-one, resident, staff or visitor, could resist singing along.

If you follow the Thread Of Gold accounts on social media, you may recall me writing about my friend Gordon. Gordon was diagnosed a couple of years ago, with both vascular dementia and Alzheimer’s. He is now, largely, non-verbal, but does enjoy being outside. His wonderful wife, Joana, takes him on adventures when she is able, and a few months ago, they visited York. Having taken in the Minster, Joana was suddenly aware that Gordon had wandered off. She looked around anxiously, worried that he may have walked into the road. That wasn’t the case. Gordon was stood next to a couple of buskers, joining in with their version of ‘My Girl’. Enjoying Gordon’s company, the singer shared her microphone with him, and they performed a touching duet (see video below). The magic of music was evident once again.

I talk about the ‘magic’ of music, but, of course, there are strong scientific reasons why those with memory issues, can benefit so much from music. Imaging shows that regions of the brain associated with musical memory, are among the last areas to degenerate in Alzheimer’s disease. Furthermore, music engages multiple brain regions at once, strengthening neural connections and providing intense cognitive stimulation, unlocking memories, emotions, and even physical movements that were otherwise lost. All of this helps reduce agitation and anxiety in those with various forms of dementia. Miraculous, but not actual magic.

One of the aims of Thread of Gold is to promote inclusion. Groups such as dementia friendly choirs and music groups certainly do this, bringing together those living with dementia and their friends and carers, in a relaxed environment which benefits everyone concerned. If you have an hour or two to spare each week, do look out to see if there is a local group near you. Helpers are almost always very welcome, and my experience is that there is usually a cuppa and a great slice of cake to round off the afternoon. To mangle the bard’s great opening line: If music be the food of inclusion and joy, play on!

Try telling these guys that music isn’t magical.

I wanna hold your hand… really

Jan 23, 2025Jan 23, 2025 threadofgold21

In a world crowded with digital communication and virtual connections, one simple and timeless gesture continues to offer comfort and connection: hand-holding. This unassuming yet profound act transcends words, weaving threads of intimacy and reassurance into the fabric of our relationships. It serves as a symbol of support and security that is deeply rooted in our humanity.

In the middle of November, I had a health scare, collapsing whilst watching a local rugby game. My memories of the time between being taken unwell and arriving at hospital are very hazy, but I do recall a few things: hearing the voice of the defibrillator telling people to “stand clear”; an awareness of people trying to rouse me, but me being unable to respond to them; and most vividly, of someone holding my hand. As the medical staff of the two rugby clubs did their brilliant best to support me medically, a big, burly rugby fan had taken my hand and was gently rubbing his thumb on the back of it. Drifting in and out of consciousness, and unaware how unwell I was, the fact that someone had hold of my hand somehow imbued me with a sense of calm. Like Mitch Albom wrote in The Five People You Meet in Heaven: “Sometimes, just holding hands is enough to chase away the fear”.

A week or two later, as I reflected on events, it struck me as significant that one of the few things I could recall was someone holding my hand. But perhaps that shouldn’t really be such a surprise. Touch is a powerful therapeutic tool. Children hold hands with parents for reassurance and comfort. Lovers hold hands to show affection, but also to offer security. I’m sure we could all think of examples of how holding a hand has made a difference to our lives.

Reading up on the science of hand holding reveals some intriguing insights. Hand-holding triggers a cascade of neurochemical responses that can significantly enhance feelings of well-being. Holding hands with someone can cause our brain to release oxytocin. This natural hormone may help to alleviate stress and anxiety, and can have a profound effect on emotional resilience. Moreover, holding hands can lower blood pressure and heart rate, demonstrating that physical touch can, quite literally, soothe our biological systems.

A few years ago, I had the enormous privilege of working for as year as a chaplain in social care. The two residential homes in which I was employed, looked after elderly people, many of whom needed nursing care or were living with dementia. I sat with some of the residents as they reached the end of their lives, and holding their hand was something I could do to comfort them as their life’s journey was completed. And here’s something I experienced on a number of occasions: as Joan or Phylis or Richard or whoever lay quietly in bed, they would often respond to hand holding with the tiniest squeeze. Even close to death, holding a hand was so important.

One elderly lady of whom I was particularly fond once said to me: “I like it when you come in, you’re someone to hold on to.” What she was thinking of was that she liked to hold my hand as we talked, which gave us a connection and offered her reassurance at an uncertain and sometimes frightening stage of life. A very small act with a huge impact.

In the weeks and months immediately after Clem died, an elderly friend of ours (Ruth, who coined the Thread Of Gold motif), would visit at least once a week. She took to bringing essential oils with her, which she would gently massage into my hands. I was unsure at first if this was something I would like: I’m a man, naturally suspicious of ‘this sort of thing’, and it seemed a bit too intimate for me. However, I was persuaded it might be helpful, so as I sat on the settee with my hands on a pillow and listened to some relaxing music, Ruth did some reflexology on my hands. To my surprise, I would often end up with tears rolling down my cheeks; the massage felt comforting and helped to release some of the myriad of emotions brought on by deep grief. Never were Paulo Coelho’s words, “Holding hands is like keeping the soul together, a quiet and powerful gesture”, quite so true.

Studies affirm its benefits, literature romanticises its significance, and cultural practices enrich its meaning. A rugby fan holding the hand of a poorly fellow supporter; a chaplain letting an elderly person at the end of their life, know that there is someone with them; a lovely friend massaging the hands of a grieving parent: touch, especially holding someone’s hand, is a powerful instrument.

Acknowledgement means so much

Sep 2, 2018 threadofgold21

It has always seemed unlikely to me, that people choose to sleep rough for long periods of time. Of course, I understand that a domestic argument, money shortage, addiction and whole host of reasons, can lead to someone finding themselves sleeping out on the street, but would they really choose that as a long term option, if it could be avoided? Worryingly, there are an increasingly large number of people who find themselves in this desperate situation and who are unable to find help to turn things around.

As much as I would like to have all the answers and to be able to solve the homelessness / rough sleeping problem in the UK, I am much better equipped to share a couple of thoughts on how we might best help those whom we meet as we walk to and from work on a daily basis, or see huddling in a sheltered corner as we head out for the evening.

Clem was a real inspiration to me in this respect. When out with him in Cardiff or Huddersfield, where he studied, he was very much at ease smiling, nodding or stopping to chat with folks on the street. He had the ability to see through the “homeless” tag and recognise the person. We would often stop, and whilst Bram (Clem’s younger brother) and I were dispatched to find a Greggs and bring back a pasty and coffee, Clem would sit and talk. We would return to find elder son and new friend smoking together (the real magic Clem possessed in these situations, was his ability to roll and light a cigarette in all weather conditions), discussing the merits of various shelters, fast food outlets and brands of tobacco.

Of course, the pasty and warm drink were always appreciated (and far more so, the cigarette), but what we heard time and again, were the words, “thanks for stopping”. Really, it was the act of acknowledgement that helped most. To repeat a well worn phrase, a smile costs nothing, but pays a lot. The simple act of acknowledging someone’s existence, effectively says, “Yes, I see you there, and of course you are worthy of my time”.

About Thread of Gold

Aug 27, 2018 threadofgold21

Through each of us runs a thread of gold, that best part of us which loves to help, encourage and enthuse. Thread of Gold is all about advocating kindness, tolerance and inclusion. At a time where so much media content is focused on anger and division, Thread of Gold aims to seek out the positive, to promote acts of kindness, celebrate people whose tolerance is an example to us all, and endorse places and organisations which encourage inclusivity.

Through using the hashtags #threadofgold #becauseofclem, we would like to bring attention to the good and positive in the world; to the people, places and organisations whose instincts are to be kind, tolerant and inclusive. Please support us, by tweeting or using our facebook page (www.facebook.com/Thread-of-Gold), in order to promote acts of kindness, tolerance and inclusion, or indeed, anything else positive that you would like to celebrate …because of Clem.

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About Clem

The sudden and devastating loss of my son, Clem, in February 2017 was the most savage blow for all of us who knew him and loved him. A young man who very definitely lived life in his own, most unique way, at once huge fun and greatly troubled by mental health issues, Clem was, above all else, someone who cared.

On the day of his funeral, a shattering, heartbreaking occasion, I was so very proud of my beautiful son. Ripon Cathedral was full, with many mourners having to stand around the sides. But it wasn’t the shear number of people who had come to show their respects and affection for Clem, that most touched me; rather, it was the diversity of those people: young and old friends, friends from school, university, the rugby club, the pub and from all over; friends from different racial backgrounds and from contrasting social circumstances, friends from the LGBTQ community, males, females, new friends and some who had been friends with Clem since early childhood. Whilst Clem most certainly had a wild side, he also had a huge heart; he loved his friends and cared not whether they be the mightiest or lowliest in the eyes of others, to Clem, they were simply his friends.

The summer before we lost Clem, the two of us were sitting in the garden together, when an elderly friend of mine dropped by. She chatted happily with Clem about a whole range of seemingly obscure topics (obscure to me, at least; Ruth’s late husband had worked as a pharmacist and Clem was studying Pharmaceutical Science, so a friendship was born). Later, when I was talking with Ruth about Clem and some of his struggles with mental health and associated addictions, she looked at me and said; “Yes, he struggles, but he is a kind young man, and running through him, there is a thread of gold.”

In the weeks and months after Clem’s funeral (and how it still shocks and pains me so much to write those words), as I thought about how I could do something positive with Clem’s memory, I recalled Ruth’s words, and the idea of #threadofgold was conceived.

It would give me, Clem’s brother Bram, his mum and all his close family and friends, great joy to know that Clem’s name was being used to promote those values for which he stood and, in such a natural way, embodied. Clem was as at home rolling a cigarette with someone on the street as he was talking chemistry with a university professor, as at ease buying a pint and chatting with someone new in the pub, as he was walking in the hills with me, his brother and the dogs. Clem was not judgemental about gender, race, sexuality, social group or personal circumstances, he tried to be kind, to be tolerant and to be inclusive. He was a young man, who by no means got everything right, but through Clem, there ran a thread of gold.

Please support #threadofgold …because of Clem.