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December 11, 2004
"...but this goes to eleven"
I am a hippie burner, and listen to a lot of tribal trance. Swooping synth riffs and djembe drum beats. This is stuff to chill by, non abrasive to ones chi.
May the Gods of Rock forgive me...
Last night, I went to the 'Moses Gate' pub to see my old pal Rob's AC/DC tribute band 'AC/DO.' They set me straight again!
A packed and sweaty Bolton pub, drunken northern tarts, seriously hard lads on the piss, lots and lots and lots of ale, driving live rock and roll at tooth loosening Richter scale volume, and not a gourd shaker within light year of the gig. Tremendous!!
Thanks again to the band for a great night and my overdue attitude adjustment. I get it now...again.
I feel like total shit this morning. Its so nostalgic.
Posted by Andrew at 05:03 AM | Comments (2)
December 09, 2004
short days, long memories.
As we head towards the solstice, the sun is a scant curiosity at these latitudes. The sky is slippery grey and dead fingers of trees prey for springtime.
I took a walk around the villages this morning, my breath hanging in the air and long slanted shadows never leaving me. Toadstools burst like blisters from between the toes of trees, fog sulking in the valley and crows coughing.
These days were made for pubs and fires, strong ale and stamping boots. A fish and chip lunch is warm to hold, stokes the inner furnace and takes on a relevance that can't be fathomed in a shady patio in California.
This is a haunting and beautiful place and feels more than real at this time of year. I wear it like an old coat. I will miss it more than I can tell.
Posted by Andrew at 11:36 AM | Comments (2)
December 05, 2004
Home.
The golden thread that ties me to Lancashire has been humming with tension recently. I needed to get back and be with my Father in these sunset days.
The journey was a epic saga with last minute carrier changes and an unexpected diversion through Amsterdam to tease me with a few more hours before we could be together.
I now sit 10feet away form my Dad, and down the hallway from my old (if those walls could talk) bedroom. I feel such relief.
Dad is very sick, and eats child like portions. As expected he is frail and flanked by the oxygen, tubes and the meds that get him through till tomorrow... but he is still very much my Dad.
His mind is as sharp as ever, and through the gasps and wheezes the constant 'pop quiz' of testing questions that was my growing up continues. Totally current with events, he searches for my opinion and wows me with his wisdom.
The contact we yerned for was satisfied in our first minute together. All is well.
Posted by Barbara at 02:40 AM | Comments (4)