Sunday, July 30
Rory and I never made it to the zoo, as we'd planned. He says that the zoo is on a steep hillside, in the sun, and the temperatures being as they were, combined with my hatred of any kind of physical exertion, would mean I'd never forgive him for taking me there. So I didn't get to see the penguins. He says we might go in September, for my birthday, though.
Came home on Tuesday to temperatures five degrees worse than they'd been in Belfast. I just don't
do heat. Life was being dull and nothing much was happening, a bit of reading, a lot of sweating, until my brother rang me on Thursday evening. It's very rare that he rings me, we just don't tend to have much to say to each other, but he sounded upset. It turned out he had had an argument with our mum who thus decided she'd had enough of the whole family and was leaving our dad. So I can understand why he was upset, even though it's been on the cards for years now. I got him to calm down and mostly stop crying and he explained how she'd told him some of the things Dad's done to her over the years, which had made him angry at Dad. Apparently she also said that if they were to split up, he'd decided he would move abroad, and Robert didn't want him to go, so that was upsetting him too. I think the worst bit though was that Mum had blamed him for it all, saying we were both spoilt (though I think if children are spoilt, then the parents have to take responsibility for that) and that she was sick of it all. Their argument was only a catalyst, it was just a question of how long she was willing to wait, I think, but it was unfair of her to blame it on Robert when the problem is between her and Dad, and I told Robert that.
But where was Dad during all this? He was at the pub. I rang him, told him that mum had left and Robert was upset about it and I thought he should go home. He seemed perfectly composed and said he would be heading home in a few minutes. As if his daughter rings him every week to tell him his wife had left him. He went home and spoke to Robert, said it wasn't his fault. It seems Mum had rang him when she left to let him know. Which just raises the question of why he didn't go home immediately to see how Robert was, or even ring. I rang him on Friday to see how he was doing, Robert having decided to go see a friend and get out of the place. He started crying when we talked about it. A bad sign. He
never cries. I don't think he even cried when his mum died. I told him that I didn't necessarily want him to get back together with Mum, and that I didn't necessarily want them to split up permanently either, I just wanted them to reach some amicable agreement which worked best for them, that that's what would make me happiest. And that I wasn't going to be taking sides.
Friday was notable for other reasons too though. I went and got my nipples pierced. Rory had persuaded me it was a good idea, so off I went. I always start rambling when I get nervous and I almost set a record for my rambling that day. But I got them done and I think I'll like them when they heal. The left one is swollen and bruised, the right keeps bleeding when I knock it, but they do look kinda cool. They just take so long to heal though, six to nine months, but I think it'll be worth it. And no, you can't have pictures.
In the evening I went out to
Suck My Left One. Alone. Robert Dane was a workmate's party, but now that I'm starting to become a more integrated part of Manifesta I did have people to sit with. In fact I got hugs from 8 different people over the night, which is pretty good going. Two of those were Alex and her partner Tom, who I met through a certain site. Tom was wanting me to model for him, to expand his portfolio, and I agreed on the condition I could photograph him too. I think I ended up flirting with him, which was bad of me, as they're monogamous. I really am hopeless. He is pretty though, in my defence.
Not much planned for the upcoming week, but it's
Unity Day on Saturday, which is always a great event. And if we're lucky, it might have rained by then...
20:18
Friday, July 21
As promised yesterday, I am here to regale you with tales of drunken debauchery and Actually Doing Things.
First up is the
Ladyfest Leeds All Dayer. I went round to the
Common Place the afternoon before for planned decoration and cake baking. It was fun to make cake, I haven't made one in a long time, because I usually eat it all afterwards and then feel shit. The cake was very ad-lib. I ended up using twice the recommended amount of golden syrup and apple sauce, the mixture only just fit in my cake tin. Which was probably why a lot of it ended up on the floor of the oven, it having risen too far and expanded beyond the limits of the tin. I just like to think of it in the sense that it was very happy at being cake, so happy in fact that it didn't want to be cake just in a cake tin, but all over the oven too. Jess made an icing for it with margarine, vanilla extract, lemon juice and maybe something else, and all together it was divine.
Ferg also made a cake, from my left over ingredients and some cocoa powder, and we baked it in Amy's heart shaped tin. However we didn't try to free it from the tin until the day after, by which time it was stuck solid and it had to be cut out. Jess showed off her baking skills again and made a raspberry coulis topping and then named the whole deal Broken Heart Cake. It tasted good too. After the baking and decorating, we had a chat about what we wanted Ladyfest Leeds (coming next spring!) to be like. Our plans so far include an egg and spoon race, a bouncy castle, a karaoke night, a karaoke night on a bouncy castle, and various workshops. It was fun.
The day after was the big day. It was billed as an all dayer, though in reality we couldn't get access to the room until 3pm, as there was a refugee English language workshop which had booked the room beforehand, and so the bands weren't scheduled to start until 4. I arrived at about 2pm and helped with cake icing and other various little tasks, as nothing big could be done until the room was cleared. Frustratingly the room was still in use at 3:30, though by that point we'd already started moving equipment in as otherwise nothing would run to plan. Soon the level of activity escalated, there were refugees all over the place eating lunch, bands were arriving and had to be signed in, last minute decorations were added, a text message was received from one band saying they were pulling out as their guitarist had broken his guitar, the set list had to be reworked, the PA had to be set up, tables from the language workshop had to be moved to make space for dancing, and it was all very hectic, though I coped surprisingly well.
The bands were all great, the cake was a huge success, zines were sold, beer was drunk (in huge quantities), there was swarms of pretty people, food was cooked and eaten and cooked and eaten and so on all night, the sets ran to schedule, loads of people turned up and danced, and a good time was had by, well, if not all, then certainly most. I received one dinner invitation and one sex proposition, talked to loads of people, bounced and danced and ate cake, and even helped with some of the tidying up. When the bands had all finished, a disco was started and I danced to some wonderful music. By about half 12 though I was flagging somewhat and left to get the nightbus home. If the rest of Ladyfest goes so well it will be a wonderful thing. In the conversations had afterwards, it transpired that the PR sent out by Ronan and Bob worked wonders as the day was talked about on Radio 1 and featured in the Guardian's events of the week section. Also, it seems that the NME want to feature our club night,
Suck My Left One, in their Club of the Month piece. We rock!
After all the energy exerted in that one day, I came over to Belfast for a nice, relaxing fortnight.
The 12th of July is a major holiday in Northern Ireland, one usually avoided at all costs by the majority of the population, including Rory. He was short of holiday time though and so I got to experience my first Twelfth. And boy what an experience. The lower classes (don't mean to sound snooty, but it really is just the lower classes) line the roads which will be marched through from the morning, sit there drinking as the march goes past, sit and drink some more, wait for the march to return from their picnic a few miles away, then continue drinking and, if they're feeling up to it, go in for a little rioting and sectarian violence. Rory and I went out to watch some of the march, as it goes along the road he lives on, and of itself, the march was quite good. It reminded me a lot of the processions during the Edinburgh Festival. It was headed by two teenagers dressed in imitation 17th century clothes and tracksuit tops, followed by lots of flag bearers,
Orangemen, bands (who all seemed to be playing the same tune), little kids trying to cartwheels, and taxis carrying the people who couldn't be arsed walking. It got dull quite quickly.
Luckily, escape was at hand as Paddy and Ruthy had organised Chillifest, the main attraction of the day. Rory and I had spent the day before creating TurboGoulash and a vegan alternative, and we took these along with us, plus the necessary vodka and beer. After that, the day seems to sink into much of a haze, probably due to the large amount of vodka and the small amount of Magic Hugging Pills I imbibed. Whatever happened must have been fun though, as we ended up bringing Jude (Rory's ex-flatmate's ex) home with us for further hugging and fondling and, ahem, such like. She certainly made a prettier sight to wake up to than Rory usually does. Unfortunately, upon waking I discovered my courage of the night before had ebbed away and all I could do with her was grin and hug. A sorely missed opportunity.
The rest of the time here has been spent reading, sweating in the heat (though it seems Leeds is far hotter, small mercies etc), eating too many tortillas, watching films, running from spiders, and not doing my Relate exercises, much to Rory's annoyance. I can't help it if my sex drive has dropped back to zero again. Meh. We were going to go to
Glasgowbury but car space is quite short, so we won't be after all, but on Monday we should be going to
Belfast Zoo to see the penguins (I have a thing for penguins at the moment). I go home on Tuesday, so I really hope the weather will have broken by then. I've been having enough problems in 24 degree heat, let alone 32...
16:59
Thursday, July 20
Rejoice! For I have returned! Well, you can wallow in misery, if you really want to, I suppose. Soon I shall quench your burning desires with stories of gigs, fondling, chips, books and unbearable heat, just as soon as I find the arsedness. I'm halfway there: Rory has left me a decent keyoard to use finally, instead of his usual useless piece of crap. I just need to be able to bear the heat in his computer room first (and that's with the window open, a fan and an air con on, and wearing very little. Yes, it's very, very hot.)
15:19
