No peas at Greenpeace. Courgettes though...

Awoke in time, well way before time - but it took till then to get my sorry carcase out of bed, to listen to the Archers Omnibus. I wish Clary Grundy would keep her nose out of her son's business - can't see anything wrong with his new girlfriend myself. Always a ring! ring!, in the middle of it. Alice is off to the Greenpeace Fair. To do battle with the Pee Palace again no doubt. Hope she wins this time...

Into the garage, Archers on in there too. Stripping flathead A to put parts onto Flathead B in the impossible hope of getting the car ready for the Hotrod Drags.

Ain't gonna happen. Between 1937 (exhibit A - a pure bred lump of cast iron from Henry's empire) and 1990 (exhibit B - a strangeness revised Flathead turned out in relative secrecy by the Simca factory to suit the whims of NATO) there's a number of small but significant differences. All of which can be resolved but, oh look! Sun's shining, double bass is still in the car and, what the hey - off to the Greenpeace Fair myself.

Nothing says nutter like wandering around with a double bass under your arm, looking for someone to play with. Still. Although alone in the pursuit of stupid instrument carrying, fair to say I wasn't the only fool there...

Saw Becky amongst the huge, hours long, travelling Samba dance - husband David along behind. Bumped, literally into quite a few people, distant friends. Little kids daring to come and pluck at the strings of Delores when I stopped in my rambles. Lovely to see.

Played some tunes with a meandering melodeon player and then. Hang on? Two familiar faces? Suzanne and Katy, missing from the dreaded but actually fine school reunion, just sitting there. As open mouthed as I was standing. Never enough time to catch up - 25 years gone by just like that. Too much to think about, just wonderful to see them, both still as gorgeous as I never was. Am now though that's for sure.

Passing stall - free courgettes? Pockets filled...


Eventually found the kids and ex-neighbours, sampled some real love cooked food in the gloom of a khaki tent. Stood listening to Monkey Spanner, Ska support for Bad Manners a few weeks back, not dancing, but joining in on the bass. Carried on after they'd finished for a private party of cider addled, kissy faced, fancy dressers, until I suddenly realised in the fading evening that I was not only out in an ancient car with poor lighting, but I was still wearing my sunglasses. Clear set? On the dining table...

Exciting drive home, warm summer rain, flickering lights, unlit roads. Made it! Fun, fun, fun. So. No reason there for the depths of despair that kept me in bed so long today. Just one of those things, every action having a reaction. Normal service whenever possible...