Little did I know that on a whim just a few weeks ago to attend the PPL Annual General Meeting in the haloed surroundings of the birthplace of Sgt Pepper and many other Beatles masterpieces, Abbey Road Recording Studios, that I would end up on a path – via this very blog – firstly, to having a letter printed in the Financial Times, and then a few weeks later, the “Big Chill” day on February 2nd with an invitation by the highly respected musician and Chairman of PPL, Fran Nevrkla, to the House Commons to take part in the Copyright Extension debate with various MP’s and no less than 2 Ministers of Her Majesty’s Government in attendance. (This, we were told was a great boost to our chances, provided of course that we could make our case of course!)

Earlier that day, Jonathan Morrish (press officer for Sailor when we were signed to CBS/Epic Records, a few years later for Michael Jackson and now for PPL) called to inform me that due to the inclement weather the whole thing might have to be called off. {The MP who was supporting our case to extend the present copyright by ‘non-featured recording artists’ from 50 years to 95 years} was apparently stuck up in the icy wastes of Scotland but was hell-bent on trying to get back to London as it was extremely difficult to get Ministers, MP’s, a Committee Room and everyone involved in one place at the same time to put the case for the required changes to Government legislation such as is presently required by the PPL, 40,000 UK musicians & yours truly!

“We’re going to try to make the thing happen, but don’t want you to come all the way up to town as it very well might not” Jonathan told me.

Suddenly I realized that although having been little nervous at the prospect, I was fascinated by how government actually works and really wanted to go.

“No problem” I said, invoking what I imagined might be the stirrings of a Churchillian wartime spirit;

“I’ll come up to town anyway as it if it does go ahead I’d love to be involved. And anyway I’ve never been inside the Houses Of Parliament”

So Ann and I gingerly set off to the station, our car slithering down the icy road only to be informed by the staff that there would be no more trains today. What to do? According to the radio the whole country was in frozen paralysis, roads blocked, theaters ‘darkened’, schools and offices closed after what the National Weather Center had described was an extreme, “Snow Event”

‘Chionophobia’ - Fear of snow

Apparently this latest bout of chionophobia was enough to leave burly train drivers quivering behind curtains for fear of multi-ton locomotives flying off the rails at the onset of a light dusting of icing sugar on the tracks!

The reality was that it was just “snow” - albeit quite a bit of it, (so let’s give it a really BIG title so we can all be a teensy-weensy bit scared!) but the main roads had seemed fine to me. So I decided to set off with blankets, walky-talkies and thermos flasks in what was one of the fastest, most pleasurable and traffic-free drives up to London ever! What a remarkably timid and fearful place England has become in the intervening years since WW2

Driving into London it looked at it’s most charismatic and beautiful in the soft light and sound of a crispy and almost deserted twilight, and after parking adjacent to Westminster Abbey, I asked a sentry-box policeman the way to “Committee Room Number 12”

Going through extremely tight security and traversing the vast and ancient Great Hall into the main building, I was by this time, bristling with anticipation as the incredible history of the place seemed alive, connected so closely as it is with the present time and events. I’d never felt that connection before in crusty old places like museums churches and art galleries but here it felt very different.

Corridors of Power

Finally I arrived along a very long high-ceiling passageway to “Committee Room 12” also known as the Lord Palmerston Room, with a huge painting of the great man imperiously looking down from the far wall no doubt overseeing proceedings. On the way I recognized several famous politicians scurrying around the Corridors of Power going about their daily business as if in their own private zoo. Peering out into the darkness from the 25 ft high mock-Gothic windows to get my bearings, the iron grey, fast-moving Thames enabled me to pinpoint exactly where we were within the stately pile. The room itself was like a mini version of the House of Commons, rows of leather-bound dark green chairs behind long school-like desks (with sliding brass-topped inkwells!) facing each other with the familiar gold portcullis design on the chair backs.

Fran invited me to sit on his left in the front row along with Dominic McGonigal, PPL’s government liason officer, Pat Halling, the principal violinist on many legendary Beatles recordings and on my left, the Leader of the LSO. Facing us were David Lammy, the Minister for Higher Education and Intellectual Property, several MP’s, journalists and supporting civil servants and staff.

Why me? How had this particular brummie songwriter arrived here amongst the ghosts of Gladstone, Gaitskell, Disraeli and in the shadow of Oliver Cromwell, whose imposing statue I’d walked beneath on the way through the well-worn labyrinthan corridors of State? Fate had obviously decided that this ever-hopeful, though by now slightly jaded tin pan Alley journeyman was to be a spokesperson for the cause. Life is very strange at times!

Try as I might to be unsentimental, thoughts turned to my grandfather, sent out by those in this place to fight at the Somme, Eileen, my dear mum - and my father Philip, who had probably flown above these buildings out to yet another dice with death over German skies in WW2. What they would possibly make of it all? If only they could see me now. Perhaps they could!

After a brief introduction from Michael, Pat Halling opened the evening’s formalities by playing Paul McCartney’s hauntingly beautiful “Eleanor Rigby” on violin - probably the most famous of many tracks on which he had featured throughout a long career and a reminder of George Martin’s simple but by now classic arrangement.

By this time we had been joined silently at the back of the room by Chris Smith, Culture Minister, and a great boost to the cause as is relatively rare to get one Minister, let alone two at this type of meeting and especially on the cold winter’s night that Great Britain had ground to a complete standstill.

Just at the moment I recognized him, I heard the ball-tightening introduction;

“…And now Phil Pickett, a working musician would like to say a few words on behalf of the many thousands of musicians, creators and producers of music in the UK, as it were, from the coal-face so to speak”

(To read the text of Phil’s speech go to: Phil’s House of Commons speech on behalf of PPL):

After some more stirring and highly committed words from Fran and rounding up by Michael there was a formal reply to the presentation on behalf of the Government by Minister David Lammy, which I have to say at least on the face of it seemed very positive. I managed to have a brief private chat with him at the end of the ’show’.

“What, you mean you never actually know how much you’re going to earn from royalties until you actually receive them?” he asked incredulously.

I replied that no one ever really knew the amount until it popped through the door, sometimes very good and at other times quite disappointing; “Enough for a weekly shop at Tesco’s perhaps and maybe on occasion for a few weeks on the Cote d’Azur!”

He paused and then said; “What a remarkable way to earn a living!” and seemed genuinely perplexed at the reality of a musician’s life.

“I suppose it is now you come to mention it!” We both laughed.

*********************************************************************************

Later we were ushered down a wide sweeping staircase to the Stranger’s Bar (which lead out on to the virgin snow-covered terrace overlooking the Thames) for a well-earned pint at the latter end of a evening that I know I shall ever forget.