Midsummer’s Night Far From Pants

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.

Vampires Make Us Sick!

Over The Bridge

Along the river, over the bridge, to the boats

I’m really catching up with things here but back at the end of Heather and I went for a little trip up and across the country. Things didn’t exactly go to plan, but we did visit Chester, see Whitby and end up in Newcastle

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The Measurement Of Time

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.

Some Kind Of Rhapsody

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)

Vote For The Future

Or Why I Voted When It Doesn't Matter

I recently posted about how little my vote counts, given what a safe Conservative constituency I live in and the stupidity of this country’s first past the post system. And yet today I did actually vote (not deliberately spoil a ballot paper, or abstain, but select a candidate and offer my support). So why the change of heart?

There isn’t one really. I don’t expect my mark to make a difference, at least not this election. But perhaps it can cut that majority, reduce the feeling of helplessness, for the next election, or the one after that, until eventually my vote might count. A vote for the future then, however distant.