annanotbob's Diaryland Diary
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It's ben a while since I saw your ultra-violet smile
Today's Bobness is taken by Sara:
Millie and I had a nap this afternoon:
She's not actually my dog, I just look after her while my friend Jane is at work.
The lesson I learned from owning a dog (for going on 36 hours) the other week, is to stop always pushing for more, for fuck's sake. Millie adores me - she prefers Jane, but Jane has to pay the vet's bill, feed her and has ultimate responsibilty. I can have a day off whenever I like, which I've only done once. What's not to like?
I went into town:
I love my city, but I think I have a distorted view of it. I don't watch TV news and I don't read the local paper, as they're all too mind-fucking for me. I packed in watching TV news after the reporting by the 'impartial' BBC of the miners' strike in the 80s. The police always 'reported' or 'said', Scargill and the miners always 'claimed'. Numbers of injured police were based on self-reporting - logging it in the injuries book - and could include losing a button off a jacket. Miners had to have been admitted to hospital to count - hey, guess who sustained the 'most' injuries? Anyway, that's by the by. Sara bought the local paper as she's after a job and fucking hell, it could be Baltimore out there, stabbings and drug busts and assaults and corruption and never any sign of McNulty when a girl needs him. I feel safe as can be, and I probably am.
I bought some primer to get going on the table Marcus gave me:
that fish water's gone right off already - just as well Ren's home tomorrow. He's been in Spain for a week with his GF and my sis and BIL.
That picture on the wall is the only one of me and Ren where we look remotely similar:
Easter 2001, being driven up into the foothills of the Andes, in the back of a pick-up with no tail-gate, by my one-eyed Venezuelan brother-in-law, Jesus. None of us desperately sober. He was 16, Sara 17 and I was just getting into my stride with my first breakdown. It had suddenly occurred to me that maybe the kids, who were both kicking off big-time, needed to connect with their Venezuelan side, having barely seen their father for most of their lives.
I was off work, but I borrowed cash from everywhere, and ended up taking (ie paying for) the diabolical father, who promptly went on a huge bender with his old mates. Suddenly there we were - me, Sara and Ren (all way beyond the point of care in the community, to be honest), in another world, where nobody spoke English but were all very very nice to us.
Today's big excitement (Jesus, I'm easily distracted) is that Sara and I have bought tickets for the Big Chill festival, Aug 1st-3rd, where Leonard Cohen, The Alabama 3 and Martha Wainwright are playing, amonst many others. We're both really excited about going to a smaller (than Glasto) festival, for just a few days, without having to even pretend to work, and without any of the complicated personal relationships. Apart from me and her, but that's what we're up against here, so it's normal. The web site for the event is absolute shite - I couldn't find a page worth a link, but the festival site looks fabulous.
Grateful for it all, really. Glad Ren will be home tomorrow.
Sweet dreams xxx
11:44 p.m. - 11/07/2008
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