Having, for once, not see Shakespeare in Chester we weren’t about to miss out on open air Bard. Luckily Hall Place was coming to our rescue, allowing Heather, Gemma and I to go and see A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
The play was being put on by The Pantaloons Theatre Group, who I’d vaguely heard of before but never seen. They turned out to be a treat, with a totally non-serious approach to Shakespeare and plenty of (not overbearing) audience participation. We laughed quite hard, and are already looking forward to what they might bring next year.
How should I measure time? In the days since we met? Since a kiss? In the days, the years (—years; how can it be years?) since you left? There is a date in my diary. It says Anniversary. I’m not sure either of us ever held it to be true but it has to sit somewhere. There is another mark, a simple dot. A date which needs no name, for the silent terrors are always without name, in the night.
A mark and a mark and a count to them, between them. Inviting comparison. Somewhere one count ticks over the other, if we can believe one mark; if we can bare to look on the other.
I can but count how long since I stopped loving you—zero days; no hours. I hope somewhere you can see the Moon that is tonight hides from me, leaving me lonely for you (I remember another night’s Moon, a few days from now & years ago, the first light holding me once you were gone).
I miss you Pixie. I love you Jan.
Fighting Neo-Nazis and the Future of Free Expression
I am deeply disturbed by this knee jerk blocking. The EFF make some great points but even they seem afraid of offending by mentioning. Never would I agree with these opinions, but as Voltaire never said, you can say them.
A glorious took Heather and I to the centre of London and Hyde Park, there to see a one day festival of music, BST Hyde Park.
So what happens when sixty-odd thousand fans are waiting for Green Day are treated to Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody being played over the speakers? They join in of course, word perfectly and spontaneously with no prompting or guidance (and with now canon headbanging in the appropriate place). There is something so wonderful and awesome about this:
(Green Day actually did this when Heather and I saw them and the twenty-something thousand crowd there did exactly the same thing. It’s hard to think of another song which could achieve this)