The week started, (and for the purposes of today's blog, this week started last Friday) on a beach in North Wales. Somebody obviously failed to tell the climate fairies it was a bank holiday & the climate fairies in turn forgot we were still in April so while many were still in a wedding feeding frenzy, glued to the TV but with one eye on the weather outside, I was celebrating my extra days holiday watching the waves and collecting pieces of sea smoothed glass.
I'm not sure why I've started collecting bits of broken glass worn smooth by the continual churning of the sea. Its kinda cool though that bottles discarded by kids having an illicit drink can produce tiny gems of individual beauty. Last year it was pebbles with holes, the year before discarded lead fishing weights, spinners and lures. Who know's what it'll be next year. Whatever it is, spend a couple of hours on beach contemplating life and everything seems a little sweeter and a little less self important. The only drawback is the growing piles of stone, pebbles and bits of discarded tackle I've accrued but each is a small reminder of a day enjoyed and a treasure found and wondered at.
Saturday was nearly as Zen. And while not an active participant, I was there in spirit - providing wisdom and moral support whilst watching the men folk digging over the allotment. Still very much in the embryonic stage so not holding out on being completely self sufficient for a while yet but a strangely evocative yesteryear kind of place to sit back in a deck chair with a transistor radio and the smell of fresh loam.
The evening went slightly up tempo following the last minute star find and purchasing of tickets to see Turin Brakes. Still can't quite figure out how they've ended up playing such small intimate venues for small change and almost felt guilty being there enjoying it so much..... but only almost.
I was surprised at how short they were though! - which left me wondering if longevity & fame has to some extent a dependency on stature. This ponder was strengthened by a vague recollection of either hearing or reading of other famed persons being caught with or known to wear uplifts. I mean they really were incredibly short, it's not something I was expecting - you don't imagine them being so short when you're listening to them.
It was very strange standing there enjoying the music while my 'other' voice was screaming 'but look how short they are!' and variations to that effect every few minutes. It didn't help much when my 'other' voice's conscience started telling it to shut up and listen. Meanwhile I was watching me listening to me telling me (keep up) I shouldn't be listening to either of them and wondering how much more morphine I needed to last the night out. I'm not sure I came to any consensus to anything by the end of the second encore other than people shouldn't be dismissed for being short unless they were cocks as well.
Was bloody murder trying to fold myself into a sitting position and driving myself home after standing for 4 hours but didn't regret a minute and came away feeling privileged to have been there!
Sunday. Sunday just was.
I'm not sure why I've started collecting bits of broken glass worn smooth by the continual churning of the sea. Its kinda cool though that bottles discarded by kids having an illicit drink can produce tiny gems of individual beauty. Last year it was pebbles with holes, the year before discarded lead fishing weights, spinners and lures. Who know's what it'll be next year. Whatever it is, spend a couple of hours on beach contemplating life and everything seems a little sweeter and a little less self important. The only drawback is the growing piles of stone, pebbles and bits of discarded tackle I've accrued but each is a small reminder of a day enjoyed and a treasure found and wondered at.
Saturday was nearly as Zen. And while not an active participant, I was there in spirit - providing wisdom and moral support whilst watching the men folk digging over the allotment. Still very much in the embryonic stage so not holding out on being completely self sufficient for a while yet but a strangely evocative yesteryear kind of place to sit back in a deck chair with a transistor radio and the smell of fresh loam.
The evening went slightly up tempo following the last minute star find and purchasing of tickets to see Turin Brakes. Still can't quite figure out how they've ended up playing such small intimate venues for small change and almost felt guilty being there enjoying it so much..... but only almost.
I was surprised at how short they were though! - which left me wondering if longevity & fame has to some extent a dependency on stature. This ponder was strengthened by a vague recollection of either hearing or reading of other famed persons being caught with or known to wear uplifts. I mean they really were incredibly short, it's not something I was expecting - you don't imagine them being so short when you're listening to them.
It was very strange standing there enjoying the music while my 'other' voice was screaming 'but look how short they are!' and variations to that effect every few minutes. It didn't help much when my 'other' voice's conscience started telling it to shut up and listen. Meanwhile I was watching me listening to me telling me (keep up) I shouldn't be listening to either of them and wondering how much more morphine I needed to last the night out. I'm not sure I came to any consensus to anything by the end of the second encore other than people shouldn't be dismissed for being short unless they were cocks as well.
Was bloody murder trying to fold myself into a sitting position and driving myself home after standing for 4 hours but didn't regret a minute and came away feeling privileged to have been there!
Sunday. Sunday just was.
No comments:
Post a Comment