Shopping for school shoes, visiting friends. Watching Mark craft with mud. Single minded friend. Played a ceilidh tonight, tidy barn, friends dancing. Dance, bass, raffle. Noise rattling off all the walls, rattle, chatter, laughter, boom and whistle, pounding back. Kids having fun, and home to bed.
3am and now I'm sitting all alone. Except for this damn bluebottle.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Yurts
Always loved 'em. Ther's a lovely one at Bewilderwood for the children's birthday parties.
Saw a couple at Towersey too. Wished my childhood attempts at woodcraft extended beyond stealing trees for bonfires and building rabbit hutches from straightened nails and pre-owned two by fours...
Saw a couple at Towersey too. Wished my childhood attempts at woodcraft extended beyond stealing trees for bonfires and building rabbit hutches from straightened nails and pre-owned two by fours...
Towersey home...
I like sharing. As I've said before. At least once...
Towersey Village Festival is one of those things. Sure, there's other festivals that probably cater better for my eclectic musical tastes. And my age old love of things with wheels on.
No matter. Camp up, nice and close to friends of old, handy for the borrowed spot of whatever forgotten, a quick glance at the programme, and out around the sites to happen across whatever entertains. Some things remain cosily the same, others refreshingly new. Liquorice stall a-beckoning for a start! Different this year though - Towersey virgins in our party, kids older and more independent and...
I miss Kate.
Didn't realise it till we were on the road there at the turning to Woburn - our favourite route there in vehicles various. A quick flash, blink, flash, memory. And settled there, moments alone whilst kids in workshops of craft and melodeon, watching dancers practising. Laughing, joking, arms and legs twirling passionately, pulling faces at footwork mistakes...
Lovely reminders of Kate.
Hot this year. Ankles aching, walking to and fro as much as dragging a double bass allows. Our children circus skilling and making paper lanterns; some selfish time alone. Joining sessions at the beer tent and on the pub lawn beneath the tree shade. Enthralled in the Village Hall. Bumping into friends. Missing those I knew weren't there this year.
Especially my best friend.
Caught Sid Kipper, megostar of Norfolk. On walnut shells, violin, paper hankies. Brilliant. And David Holt, stories and music from the Appalachian mountains. Tales of Doc Watson's life. Player of whisky bottles, paper bags, banjos, guitars and more. Ticked every box like Them Harvey Boys I reckon; he even ended up story telling in the children's tent. Met him to say goodbye during the magical late night lantern procession. Kids old enough to take part this year. Tissue paper and sticks formed into giant feet, flowers, dragons, a double decker bus... Lit by soft candle light. Flash, blink, flash. Beautiful moments tinged with flecks of sadness.
Kate missing this.
Home again. Speeding fine - knew it was coming - laying on the mat. Down to earth with a bump. Nothing to pay it with, just twenty two solitary pounds to my name. Still, life goes on, van unpacked, clothes, cutlery and crockery washed. Photos slideshowed on the iMac - another hippy, happy Towersey. Lovely, gorgeous reminders of sharing the fun with friends. Evening with the kids watching Beetlejuice. Baths of mud. Bed. Alone in the house with melancholy and an IPA. Happy times shared.
But I still miss Kate.
Towersey Village Festival is one of those things. Sure, there's other festivals that probably cater better for my eclectic musical tastes. And my age old love of things with wheels on.
No matter. Camp up, nice and close to friends of old, handy for the borrowed spot of whatever forgotten, a quick glance at the programme, and out around the sites to happen across whatever entertains. Some things remain cosily the same, others refreshingly new. Liquorice stall a-beckoning for a start! Different this year though - Towersey virgins in our party, kids older and more independent and...
I miss Kate.
Didn't realise it till we were on the road there at the turning to Woburn - our favourite route there in vehicles various. A quick flash, blink, flash, memory. And settled there, moments alone whilst kids in workshops of craft and melodeon, watching dancers practising. Laughing, joking, arms and legs twirling passionately, pulling faces at footwork mistakes...
Lovely reminders of Kate.
Hot this year. Ankles aching, walking to and fro as much as dragging a double bass allows. Our children circus skilling and making paper lanterns; some selfish time alone. Joining sessions at the beer tent and on the pub lawn beneath the tree shade. Enthralled in the Village Hall. Bumping into friends. Missing those I knew weren't there this year.
Especially my best friend.
Caught Sid Kipper, megostar of Norfolk. On walnut shells, violin, paper hankies. Brilliant. And David Holt, stories and music from the Appalachian mountains. Tales of Doc Watson's life. Player of whisky bottles, paper bags, banjos, guitars and more. Ticked every box like Them Harvey Boys I reckon; he even ended up story telling in the children's tent. Met him to say goodbye during the magical late night lantern procession. Kids old enough to take part this year. Tissue paper and sticks formed into giant feet, flowers, dragons, a double decker bus... Lit by soft candle light. Flash, blink, flash. Beautiful moments tinged with flecks of sadness.
Kate missing this.
Home again. Speeding fine - knew it was coming - laying on the mat. Down to earth with a bump. Nothing to pay it with, just twenty two solitary pounds to my name. Still, life goes on, van unpacked, clothes, cutlery and crockery washed. Photos slideshowed on the iMac - another hippy, happy Towersey. Lovely, gorgeous reminders of sharing the fun with friends. Evening with the kids watching Beetlejuice. Baths of mud. Bed. Alone in the house with melancholy and an IPA. Happy times shared.
But I still miss Kate.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Towersey Bound
A good few times - been to Towersey Village Folk Festival.
Remember the first time. Left at midnight with my friend Alex, tents, bags, a spare wheel, oh, and a Model B grille shell I had to deliver, tied all over the Trifid. Crystal clear night. Arrived at err-o' clock in the early morning, found Kate's tent and giggle pitched it beside. Eventually. After waking everyone.
Met various bits of Them Harvey Boys there too.
And over the years? Met friends, mud, wind, rain, burning sun, cracking thunderstorms, more sun. Many acts various, from all around the world. Danced my little toes off.
Even played there - ticked the box for everything. Village hall, dance tent, concert tent, arena stage, late night party tent. Ran around like headless chickens all weekend and still found the time to take over the sessions in the beer tent.
Happy times.
Ad hoc attendance, but Kate took the kids when she could. After she'd finished all her treatment, we went together a couple of years ago. My ears blocked the day before we left - deaf as a post. Skipped out to some very quiet drag racing for a day whilst we were there. Not a thing. Played a session with a Tex Mex gaggle -still wonder how it was...
Skylark is outside. Going again - party of seven joining the Hoxne crowd. All packed high. Tents, cooker, food. Tables, chairs, bicycles. Clothes for warm, wet, and cold. Cameras, batteries, torches. Hats, blankets, towels.
Bound to have forgotten something...
Remember the first time. Left at midnight with my friend Alex, tents, bags, a spare wheel, oh, and a Model B grille shell I had to deliver, tied all over the Trifid. Crystal clear night. Arrived at err-o' clock in the early morning, found Kate's tent and giggle pitched it beside. Eventually. After waking everyone.
Met various bits of Them Harvey Boys there too.
And over the years? Met friends, mud, wind, rain, burning sun, cracking thunderstorms, more sun. Many acts various, from all around the world. Danced my little toes off.
Even played there - ticked the box for everything. Village hall, dance tent, concert tent, arena stage, late night party tent. Ran around like headless chickens all weekend and still found the time to take over the sessions in the beer tent.
Happy times.
Ad hoc attendance, but Kate took the kids when she could. After she'd finished all her treatment, we went together a couple of years ago. My ears blocked the day before we left - deaf as a post. Skipped out to some very quiet drag racing for a day whilst we were there. Not a thing. Played a session with a Tex Mex gaggle -still wonder how it was...
Skylark is outside. Going again - party of seven joining the Hoxne crowd. All packed high. Tents, cooker, food. Tables, chairs, bicycles. Clothes for warm, wet, and cold. Cameras, batteries, torches. Hats, blankets, towels.
Bound to have forgotten something...
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Double Bass days
Thursday. Out to Tibenham Greyhound, me and the kids, lovely relaxed session, beautiful singing (not mine...), Alice off to a friends across the road, Robert listening to Liam, Part-time Dan and me rambling far beyond the gone home early crowd.
Friday. 40th birthday party, then away from the disco and on to Walsham le-Willows. Sleepy Six Bells. Big John, Neville, Steve and all. Another session, all bluegrass, kids having a scream playing cards. Alice can't shuffle, and watch her - she deals her cards from the bottom...
Saturday. Built a giant parcel shelf for the Skylark - our minibus - somewhere safe to transport the double bass now it's seeing more use again. Bloody great thing. Why would anyone learn to play one!!!? And on to Ipswich, tank running on empty, driving around in rain cloud darkness to find the huge lawns of Chris's place. Caravans, tents, playing in a handful of marquees. Banjos by the half dozen, even two more bassists! Loads of old friends, new friends from all over the country. Barbeque, toasted marshmellows. Lovely.
Sunday. Later on today. Another meet up with them "one night only" boys. Really looking forward to this one - a no plans thrash through anything we know! And more.
Feeling alive this weekend. Oh to bottle the passion for all those dark times. To drink down better times and paint the world bright.
edit Gig was really good. Getting double flashed by a speed camera leaving Norwich - far less so. Driving rain, following traffic in the old Sedan, 77 year old speedo ain't all that...
Sitting here silently screaming "aaaaarrrrggggghhhh....."
Friday. 40th birthday party, then away from the disco and on to Walsham le-Willows. Sleepy Six Bells. Big John, Neville, Steve and all. Another session, all bluegrass, kids having a scream playing cards. Alice can't shuffle, and watch her - she deals her cards from the bottom...
Saturday. Built a giant parcel shelf for the Skylark - our minibus - somewhere safe to transport the double bass now it's seeing more use again. Bloody great thing. Why would anyone learn to play one!!!? And on to Ipswich, tank running on empty, driving around in rain cloud darkness to find the huge lawns of Chris's place. Caravans, tents, playing in a handful of marquees. Banjos by the half dozen, even two more bassists! Loads of old friends, new friends from all over the country. Barbeque, toasted marshmellows. Lovely.
Sunday. Later on today. Another meet up with them "one night only" boys. Really looking forward to this one - a no plans thrash through anything we know! And more.
Feeling alive this weekend. Oh to bottle the passion for all those dark times. To drink down better times and paint the world bright.
edit Gig was really good. Getting double flashed by a speed camera leaving Norwich - far less so. Driving rain, following traffic in the old Sedan, 77 year old speedo ain't all that...
Sitting here silently screaming "aaaaarrrrggggghhhh....."
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