Newcastle and Back

I wrote a series of posts when I was at the Albion Faeries' spring event at Featherstone Castle. Here's one...

I drove a guy here on Saturday who I’d met through theatre and Facebook but he had to go back to work so I drive him back today. -It’s a 45 minute journey.  He is coming back on Thursday, I’ll be collecting him from Haltwhistle station.

When I dropped him off I had no desire to “pop in” at home- if I’d seen anything upsetting it would have influenced my holiday! I did contemplate going over to Garry’s but when I called him he kept saying he was in Chester Le Street (as if I should know why and what he was doing there etc). I drove through Cowgate and stopped off to have the car cleaned. – Last time from those bastards! I think they’re Eastern Europeans and middle eastern geezers and I think they give not as good a service as they do their white clients!

Passing Acomb on the way back to the castle I had this burst of anger and very nearly turned off to march into head office and demand to know what decision they’ve made and when the appropriate people will be informed. One way gives the council a way out and CHN an asset to exploit fully once changes have been made and gives me a reason to continue what I do. The other way will see me having to lie to everyone I encounter making my job untenable. They will have to make me redundant. Either fucking way: I NEED TO KNOW and am very disappointed that they let me go away on holiday without a resolution to this.

Back at the castle I shaved, showered and kilted- clearly better. I encountered one of our band who was experiencing emotional turbulence and was able to offer support. In a heart-circle later I found myself looking out of a window at an enormous tree. No leaves revealed an intricate structure that looked to me like a musical score! I could see three key themes and accompaniment and motives. I was composing it in my head I must take a photograph of it and find out what sort of tree it is.

There was a psychedelic disco in the ballroom. I went but got bored after about half an hour of dancing to “rave” music based on a fixed, fast “clip-clop” rhythm with zero modulation. OK I admit that I got tired too: I’m not as young as I used to be, I never go dancing anymore, do hardly any exercise and had been pole-axed by a respiratory illness two days before! Mushrooms where consumed. I had some and then more when most of the assembled company slid into laughing fits and I felt disconnected… maybe it’s a body-mass thing or maybe it’s a “head” thing but I wasn’t particularly affected if at all.

The radical piece of self-discovery was that perhaps the “True” me is a lot quieter and keen to listen than I had ever before believed. I was content to listen to the sound of babbling conversations for the feelings they conveyed and contributed rather than to contribute to them. There is one bright young thing who for me is like constant blackboard scratching. He seems to revel in making noise and not caring to make sense or fit into the moment, everything is about him. Being young and (dyed) blonde gives him licence at least in his own mind to perfect the male bimbo routine. I am physically repelled by some people!