Walking by the Jolly Butchers

• turquoise soles and turquoise socks
• three screaming faces on a teeshirt
• purple cap
• yellow bicycle tyre rims
• fat man turns and runs back
• wrist plaster cast, blue outer layer
• cowboy boot strut
• pink teeshirt and purple trousers
• panama hat at the bus stop
• beige old man
• man in espadrilles
• necklace of large multicoloured sequins
• giant man, white hair, red suede loafers
• long blond barbie hair down to the arse
• tie dye teeshirt and mauve hareem pants
• long male ginger hair
• leopard print tights
• toddler in a lime green shirt with a mobile phone clamped to his ear
• shirt with orange satin ruffle
• white dress very low cut back, green knicker elastic showing, tattoos, necklace made of giant buttons
• long yellow skateboard
• white trousers, red belt, tarten trilby
• musicians pass in opposite directions - one pair guitar and keyboard, other pair symbols and violin
• recumbant bike
• scruffy crusty dreadlocks down to back of knees

Sunday

Today has all been about:

• Getting bits for putting up shelves (and rescuing dying plants from B&Q)
• Putting up shelves
• Catching fragments of the Golf Open (this is a diversionary tactic - boring sports suddenly become appealing in the light of something more pressing to do - I have even figured out that birdies are below par scores and bogies are over par scores)
• Moving boxes around the room (sis and family coming to stay on Wednesday)
• Cleaning bathroom
• Chucking stuff away in the box room.
• Planting the rescued items (leaning on an ants' nest and getting ants running up and down my arm which freaked me out a little bit - been a bit itchy since then).

Norfolk Pit Firing



16th century thatched cottage, lovely garden on a lane to the beach. Beautiful weather. Drove up on friday night, stopped at a local shop on the way to pick up provisions. Skateboardy youths hung outside bikes thrown down and skateboards discarded. Man strides over, irritated there is stuff blocking his way he violently kicks a skateboard out of the way. 5 people pick out their essential items and get to the checkout with full baskets. On arrival we are greeted by the early arrivers. Cheese on toast for dinner but couldn't turn on the cooker. Cheese sandwiches for dinner. Stroll on the beach watching the sun set, sea lapping at the shore, sucking stones back down the beach. The earlies had been swimming in the sea and seen seals.

Later we lay in the garden looking at the stars. We watched satelite trajectories and shooting stars, milky way. I spilled wine in my hair.

Saturday spent preparing the pots in the garden. Those wishing to swim swam. Trailers arrived - Fran, superhost, Georg, with corregated steel sheet and sawdust, and the boys (driver overslept by 3 hours). Sense of anticipation built up over the day.



7pm everyone went down to the beach. Georg drove the sawdust and pots in the car. Lots of chiefs stood round with spades and discussed pits - size, shape, placement. They thought initially to use some existing holes as the basis of the pit and then abandoned them having decided it was harder to make it suit than start from scratch. Once decided to begin again it was dug in minutes. Then off for a dip in the sea again.



Tide seemed to be creeping in and the original holes gradually filled up with water. Then the pit started flooding. New pit site was chosen. Fran put a stone on the tide line to check when the tide turned. New pit was started and completed. Tide was receding. Pit was lined with sawdust, pots put in, filled up with sawdust. Screwed up newpaper covered the top and covered with sticks. Ceremonial lighting of the pit. Initial concerns about causing a public nuisance subsided when it transpired that all the parties on the beach were barbecueing, some with much more smoky fires. Lidded the pit and watched.



Half the party went off in search of fish and chips. Fran and Maddie returned to the cottage for snacks and came back with veggies to roast on the pit and carrots with their greens still on. Much wine was drunk. There is something very primeaval about sitting with a fire in a group. Back to how our ancestoers would have lived. Seeing the sky. Using the mateials around us. Cooking on an open fire, eating with fingers. Basic needs met, no luxuries, plenty.

The Polish group along the beach were burning a huge tree trunk. The men ran off for a dip and came back sans trunks, whooping and leaping while cupping their privates. Their women folk laughed egging them on, they played up to it with accidentally-on-purpose dropped towels, followed by fire leaping, risk of chargrilled balls.

The pit embers glowed but the warmth reduced. Wrapped up in blankets and huddled together eating 8 fish and 3 chips (ordered 8 fish and chips and 3 chips). The crowd drifted away as the wine ran out and tiredness overcame them. Then there were three of us, staying up, drinking wine until we were unable to stand, watching the sunrise begin. One swam in a sea that was much warmer at night than in the day. And then we went home.

Pit was opened the following morning. Pots were washed in the sea to reveal an array of smoky results.




Finally dragged all the firing schrapnal back to the cottage. Pots were cleaned up and polished and lunch was eaten. Then drove back to London.



A particularly wonderful weekend. My feet are itchy for more like that - open road, travelling, beach living, pottery.

Living in the Moment

Having worked for 15 years I feel that I have become an observer of the moment as opposed to living in the moment. In snatched moments during lunch I watch other people living the moments of their lives - a young couple snog on a bench. Remember the warmth and wetness of another's lips, probing tongue that excites the sexual, exchange of bodily heat and physical emotion. I remember it but don't feel it that often anymore. Its a new lovers experience. 3 dancers work out the choreography for a performance, testing out the movements, making sure they are sashaying the same way, thrusting hips in the right direction, counting steps... and dip, dip. A beautiful quivering whippet watches, as do a passing throng of painters and decorations - tanned necks, paint daubed clothes, smoking and joking.

A dance track comes on in the cafe - one of those phat tunes with a swell of bass and repetitive melody that reverberate in the body - stimulating the synapses. This was music of living in the moment - when we would dance all night at a whim, seek out excitement and experiences that became the stories of youth. Bogged down in the domestic I find myself yearning for excitement, stimulus and emotional reaction.

Bus

As I sit down I soak up the presence of the previous occupier through the seat of my skirt - warm left behind by their behind.

A little boy with a blond afro is playing with batman - walking him up the arm of his fit tall dad. Oops I nearly dropped matman he says laughing, spinning away he nearly lands a batman punch in the belly of some random stranger. Grinning with embarrassment the boy hides behind his dad's legs and pokes batman up his crotch. His dad brushes batman away.

Weirdly hard bodied man with died black hair and a tan holds himself tall. All muscle in a tight teeshirt. Pumped to the point it looks painfully angular. Stiff. No fat. A strangely plastic alien appearence. Could be Dr Spock.

Men’s Final Day

I like Nadal, but  he seems to be plagued by ill-fitting undergarments (he’s always hoicking them out of his bum, all through every match I’ve ever seen). Surely he could try a different style – say a boxer short rather than a brief or something that might not ride up so much. Or perhaps its just a nervous tick. His parent’s not wanting to make him paranoid never told him to stop it.

World cup has been a trauma of changing allegiances as teams supported fell round after round – there was South Africa (as hosts, and history and Nelson Mandela), France (I have a soft spot for them because they were at one point the arsenal team), England (although I didn’t have any delusions that we would get as far as the media thought we would), Brazil because of their football style, Argentina (style of play and the passions of Maradona), Ghana (as the only African side left after the group stages). So now it’s the Netherlands (Van Persie), or Spain (Fabregas), but Germany have been playing really well.