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rowanf9/10 - 4:30pm UT
Russell and I had dinner last night at the White Horse, a pub just down the hill. He had fish and I had a truly wonderful steak and ale pie. They are one of the folk music venues but the music wasn't to start until 10-10:30 and we just couldn't imagine staying up that late. So we came back up the hill to bed.
This morning after breakfast I walked with him down to the station and put him on the bus to Bournemouth. He will meet the Home From Home agent and get the key to our London flat. I miss him already.
I wandered over to the Sandpit Field where the tents were set up for the Festival. They said some Ceilidh tickets had shown up for Saturday night so I bought one. It started raining a bit harder and I decided to walk up to the hotel and get my umbrella. I stopped at a jumble sale and bought a copy of Terry Pratchett's Monsterous Regiment. I stopped in a couple of shops and looked at dancing skirts but they are all "free size" which means too small for me. I feel very disgruntled. When I got to the B&B I sat in the front room and read for awhile and when I went upstairs it was already 11am. Bah! I had meant to go to the RSCDS workshop in town. So I just stayed in my room and read. I heard the music when the massed dancers went by at 2:30 but felt disinclined to go out into the wet to see them. I *hate* grey rainy weather. With all the rain there is no place to sit down outside. So I either have to be inside in my room or pay for food or something to be able to sit in someone else's space. I perched on a bench arm in the park but that is hardly comfortable. I tell myself that you only get out of an event what you put into it, but I just don't feel like trying to become part of this Festival. I don't have any clean clothes, I feel out of place without any friends to hang with. And what's the use of trying make some that I'll probably never see again. And I'm not a photographer to want to wander around looking for dance sides and taking pictures. Most of the workshops require you to have a drum or other instrument (or hankies for the Morris ones). What am I doing here? I wish I was back home with my own waterbed, a nice fluffy feather pillow and a shower with water pressure and really hot water and friends who care about me.
I can really see why folks who are refugees and otherwise ripped from their own place can become disoriented and lost. If a day without moorings on holiday can throw me into melancholy how much greater must the loss of home overset one.
10:30pm
I finally threw off my ennui and wandered down to Masala's for dinner. The duck tikka was nice but the cauliflower bakti had too much cilantro taste to be edible. I am now reading Nightseer by Laurell K. Hamilton.
I got over to the tent at the Sandpit Field by 7:30 and was told my ticket was for last year but someone remembered them selling it to me this morning and the let me in. Mawkin was just starting up and Gordon Potts was calling the first dance. I had sat down next to a group of local folks and I asked if one of the gentlemen would like to stand up for the dance. Eddie obliged and off we went. Most of the dances were very easy and most of the folks knew enough country dancing that there weren't any real blunderers. It was fun. I stood up with Eddie several times and once with a woman called Margery. About 9pm the Bismarcks came on but I was starting to yawn and I wandered off to bed. I still don't feel all that connected with the Festival but I did enjoy the dancing. I would really like a cider though. Can diet coke really be that much better for my liver?
Russell and I had dinner last night at the White Horse, a pub just down the hill. He had fish and I had a truly wonderful steak and ale pie. They are one of the folk music venues but the music wasn't to start until 10-10:30 and we just couldn't imagine staying up that late. So we came back up the hill to bed.
This morning after breakfast I walked with him down to the station and put him on the bus to Bournemouth. He will meet the Home From Home agent and get the key to our London flat. I miss him already.
I wandered over to the Sandpit Field where the tents were set up for the Festival. They said some Ceilidh tickets had shown up for Saturday night so I bought one. It started raining a bit harder and I decided to walk up to the hotel and get my umbrella. I stopped at a jumble sale and bought a copy of Terry Pratchett's Monsterous Regiment. I stopped in a couple of shops and looked at dancing skirts but they are all "free size" which means too small for me. I feel very disgruntled. When I got to the B&B I sat in the front room and read for awhile and when I went upstairs it was already 11am. Bah! I had meant to go to the RSCDS workshop in town. So I just stayed in my room and read. I heard the music when the massed dancers went by at 2:30 but felt disinclined to go out into the wet to see them. I *hate* grey rainy weather. With all the rain there is no place to sit down outside. So I either have to be inside in my room or pay for food or something to be able to sit in someone else's space. I perched on a bench arm in the park but that is hardly comfortable. I tell myself that you only get out of an event what you put into it, but I just don't feel like trying to become part of this Festival. I don't have any clean clothes, I feel out of place without any friends to hang with. And what's the use of trying make some that I'll probably never see again. And I'm not a photographer to want to wander around looking for dance sides and taking pictures. Most of the workshops require you to have a drum or other instrument (or hankies for the Morris ones). What am I doing here? I wish I was back home with my own waterbed, a nice fluffy feather pillow and a shower with water pressure and really hot water and friends who care about me.
I can really see why folks who are refugees and otherwise ripped from their own place can become disoriented and lost. If a day without moorings on holiday can throw me into melancholy how much greater must the loss of home overset one.
10:30pm
I finally threw off my ennui and wandered down to Masala's for dinner. The duck tikka was nice but the cauliflower bakti had too much cilantro taste to be edible. I am now reading Nightseer by Laurell K. Hamilton.
I got over to the tent at the Sandpit Field by 7:30 and was told my ticket was for last year but someone remembered them selling it to me this morning and the let me in. Mawkin was just starting up and Gordon Potts was calling the first dance. I had sat down next to a group of local folks and I asked if one of the gentlemen would like to stand up for the dance. Eddie obliged and off we went. Most of the dances were very easy and most of the folks knew enough country dancing that there weren't any real blunderers. It was fun. I stood up with Eddie several times and once with a woman called Margery. About 9pm the Bismarcks came on but I was starting to yawn and I wandered off to bed. I still don't feel all that connected with the Festival but I did enjoy the dancing. I would really like a cider though. Can diet coke really be that much better for my liver?
