On being alone with friends

Nostalgia. Is it what it used to be?

I'll find out after the weekend.

For many a year, holiday time was a pair of Rock and/or Roll weekenders either side of winter. Friday night to Monday morning on a diet of food when I could grab it, bourbon if I could afford it, and a modicum of sleep if I found time for it. Crammed together in money saving, friend filled, chalets in an out of season holiday camp.

Drifted away from that when the friends I went with began their family life. Started building more cars, then Kate came along, my own little family life, then the band. Whole life full to bursting.

Chance of a spare ticket to the Rockabilly Rave came my way, kids with grandparents, and why not? Question: how much could the "fake fifties" change in, oh, what seventeen years or so?

It's going to be a blast. A sleep starved weekend, listening to old music, discovering new bands, shouting against the PA, laughing, giggling, talking crap - memories from the past. 

And what memories? Being alone amongst friends. Really alone. For all that pressed together fun - waking alone. Good times past, but it's not the ones I miss.

If I've learnt anything the hard way this last year, it's that I prefer to be the nobody who wakes entwined. The nothing said, arm over, seconds grabbed, and join the day kind of morning. I'm alright alone, but always? That just plain sucks.