May began well, with Susie & Nige's magical mystery night (on the calendar in Romeo's script), revealing itself as a trip to Penistone Paramount to watch the Vienna Festival Ballet perform Cinderella. I love dance in all its forms and was enchantedly swept away by both the fairytale and the dancers' discipline and athleticism. It was a multi-sensory experience with colourful costumes, carefully choreographed movements, music by G.A.Rossini and some wine to sip while watching. Romeo had certainly surprised me and after the show we went to a pub where I let him win at pool, as a way of saying thank you. I've also offered to take him on a return date to The annual Harold Wilson Lecture 2017 at the University but he doesn't want to go. It's by Dr Rowan Williams and is entitled: Christianity and democracy: does theology have anything to say to our political crises?
Did he expect something else?
Back to the ballet. It is so beautiful to see and such a different experience as opposed to watching a film, T.V or a play. Thinking about it later, I realise that I find it as equally moving to see the student I work closely with at school, out of his wheelchair for thirty minutes or so each day. I love that time together, it's so special. He has his own unique movements which I try to encourage and support.
Mini-Me went off camping on his first ever school trip: Bushcraft Woods Adventure in Cheshire; on the same weekend as our Shepley Spring Festival. Meanwhile, the lovely Dirtbag was catching up with friends and doing her waitressing shift at a local pub/restaurant. How things change.
Back to the festival. There was so much music, singing and dancing to enjoy; it was impossible to experience everything and it certainly took my mind off missing the little fella. On Friday evening I sang in church with the Shepley Singers, which was lovely. Later on, in the beer tent I bumped into Belinda O'Hooley and had a nice little chat with her, asking how their performance had gone, (O'Hooley & Tidow). I apologised for not being able to listen as I was singing in the church and she said not to worry, they are doing something in Slaithwaite in October and to come along to that. Which, of course, I may do.
On Saturday I attended a lunchtime concert with meine Freundin (Romeo was playing cricket) where we saw Stepling, Nightfall and Megson; all brilliantly captivating. The evening concert was awesome with Nordic Fiddlers Bloc then Kelly Oliver, (followed by a short break in the beer tent for me) before the amazing Eliza Carthy and the Wayward Band. If you get chance to see them live I encourage you to do so, you will not be disappointed. You can blame me if you are though. Purchasing her deluxe CD afterwards and while she signed it for me I said, 'That was absolutely BRILLIANT Eliza! Thank you for coming to our festival again.'
She replied, still out of breath from her exuberant performance, that it was a pleasure. She is certainly an individual and unashamedly rocking the folk scene with the Wayward Band, in my humble opinion. I doubt whether the traditionalists among us approved and some people did leave the tent. Jigging around at the back behind the sound system with Romeo, I was at home in my own village and at a folk festival; in other words, in one version of my own personal heaven for a few hours.
Then the darkness descended, first in the form of a severe sickness bug which seemed to affect quite a few members of staff from work. Mayday, Mayday! I somehow manged to sing but felt terrible and couldn't really support Romeo with his ceramics stall on Sunday. On Monday I stayed at home sleeping and starving myself. At tea time there was a huge family row and a heaviness hung in the air. As I was ill, I didn't even have the energy to weep. Hibernating upstairs, I glimpsed a faint rainbow trying its best to shove the dark grey clouds aside. Struggling to sleep I kept tossing and turning. At around 10.30 pm I suddenly started crying and sobbing for no apparent reason. Knowing that something was really wrong somewhere I began praying for my friends and family. My heart felt as though it were being pressed down upon heavily with two giant fingers. It happened twice and hurt. When the sobbing had subsided I somehow fell asleep. Awakening the next morning to the news that there had been a bomb at Manchester Arena with some deaths and many injured; the tears came tumbling down again.
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Nature has its ways of trying to cheer us up and the sheep stopping our train in its tracks scenario was amusing. The train driver and conductor jumped off with their orange Hi Vis jackets on, heroically rescuing the 7 or so sheep from the barbed wire fence at the side of the railway line. It could have been a real life episode from Postman Pat, except the train driver was called Steve, not Ajay. The photo below of two woolly jumpers is courtesy of my fellow friendly train traveller.
'As long ago as 1086 SCIPELEI (Shepley) was mentioned in the Domesday Book, so there must have been some kind of settlement before the Norman Conquest. The name SHEPLEY, often thought to mean 'a clearing where sheep are kept' (but possibly connected with ley lines!) would indicate the early settlers were Anglo Saxon, 'ley' being Saxon for clearing.' From SHEPLEY Believe it...... or Not! by David Billington.
Peace, Love, Joy & Hope.
With so much love it hurts xx
Reading: Riddley Walker by Russell Hoban
Listening to: the birds singing and the rain splashing down
Singing: Why Can't We Live Together by Sade off her brilliant debut album Diamond Life (1984)
Dancing to:www.youtube.com/watch?v=hN5X4kGhAtU
Watched: Later...with Jools Holland and The Book Thief (2013)
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| A proud Terrier fan |
