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| Up the road/September 2020 |
Leon is lying on the sofa under the oak tree; he has just broken his nose and his girlfriend is administering care, attention and arnica. It’s the calm before the storm.
Rebecca, responsible for digging the outside toilet, has woken and announced that she has a sore throat; at other times someone would tell her to gargle with salt but these times we all question whether it is the start of Covid 19.
Leon had decided to dive into the splash pool. The water is level with my knees, Leon is level with the beams that hold up the roof of my house.
Rebecca – nicknamed Rebacaca after her heroics with shovel and pick – is drinking lemon and thyme with a drop of honey.
My car, spray-painted to look like flames, sits in the middle of the meadow dwarfed by the first of the sound system stacks; the owner of the second is still trying to source a generator.
The bar has been decorated with hanging cloth octopi and the screen has been suspended between two trees.
A cat sleeps in the chill zone and there is no sign yet of the rumoured zip wire that will run between two electrical cables.
The event starts on Saturday afternoon with Theo’s new theatre piece, the techno sound stage will take you through to dawn and The dub club will wake you up at mid-day on Sunday.
The event has its own poster, two car parking areas, supplies from a local brewery and rumours that my wife is serving coffee from 10 on Sunday morning.
I will be far away; I intend to sleep down valley next to the river but I fear that I will still hear the thing from there. I will be in the river when the dub kicks in and then you will find me under a tree reading a book.
I do not intend to return before Tuesday.
But right now, it’s the calm before the storm.
previously published in The Archives
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