serious

Weekend

Well, I got up at sparrowfart on Saturday and dragged my sorry arse across the Meadows for our promised 6:30 start. As I crossed the Links, a convoy of cranes arrived - they were the ones that would later be used to lift the big letters up.There was a crowd of people hanging around outside the tent, so I joined them. About twenty minutes later The folk at the desk assigned us to groups and a bloke called Steven walked about a dozen of us over to the Eastern corner of the Meadows and stood us at strategic points, where the empty space could easily find one of us to ask for assistance.

I spent the next four hours chatting to a couple of very friendly women and watching the first trickle of people grow into a steady stream. A few coaches go past, and it slowly becomes a continuous line, until eventually they stop turning the corner and heading up towards Bristo Square and start parking along melville Drive. And then double-parking along Melville Drive. They were numbered. Number C001 went past early on, and the highest we saw was C820. The furthest north I noticed was from Aberdeen, and the furthest South from Bournemouth. The Stop The War stage was being set up near us (by the tennis courts), which distressed one of my companions - a very nice Irish woman - a great deal. She was very into the idea that it was all to do with faith communities and charities, and whenever any of the politicos went past, she'd get agitated and hope that they'd stop at this corner so nobody would see them. Now, I'm not saying that I don't feel the same about a few of the groups wandering around, but she took it a little further. I ended up explaining what Trotskyist groups were, pointing out an Anarchist so she could see one of the key recognition features ("See that bloody huge red and black flag . . .?"). A lovely woman, but a little bit politically naïve, I thought. I was also amused when she gasped that a banner had swasticas on it . . . when they were blatantly Manx triskelions. She was very pleased to see that the writing was in Manx Gaelic, though. As was I, in fact - it was a nice touch.

I knocked off for a little at about half-past eleven and went home for breakfast, after which I came back over to the Meadows and had a look at the queue to move off on the march. After laughing outrageously at the very idea of getting to the head of it before I had to be back on shift, I took a different approach and went up through George Square (passing a group who got into trouble later, and today, in black with masks), turning left in front of the pathology building just after bumping into my parents. A bit off, I know, but I was under hard pressure of time - I knew I wouldn't make it round at all otherwise. We bumped into dark_claw snapping away outside the Doctors' (he said he'd bagged three examples of my NMA shirt already, and it was only one o'clock) and then went down towards the New Town. My parents split off at the Royal Mile for e brief detour, so I went round the rest myself. There was a bishop with a big cross and a purple shirt (Purple? Daaahling, Pride was just so last weekend . . .) and someone carrying a big placard just saying GABBA GABBA HEY, which I approved of mightily.

After getting back I went home briefly to rehydrate then went back across to the admin tent (Having a national demo five minutes from one's front door is just so frightfully civilised - I've started to envy people who live beside Hyde Park now) to check on for a second shift. I got taken back to the bottom of Chalmers Street, where the march was getting back to the Meadows, to try to smooth the flow and keep the way clear. This mainly consisted of trying to get people not to drop their placards in front of the exit, and trying to tidy up the pile a bit when things were quiet. I was quite hoarse by the end of the shift. I do wish that the groups which made uo hundreds of placards had given more thought to their disposal. There were hundreds of the buggers left just at that one spot by the end of it. Various people I know went past and said hello. Several others, I know, went past while I was there but while it was too busy for me to see them.

Various samba bands and odd costumes and contrivances went around, including a human-powered disco. Every time one of these passed, it went mad afterwards as the huge crowd of people who'd been held up behind them came through. I don't think anyone really minded the delay, though, as they were generally pretty entertaining. A bit after six the flow thinned to the point where we weren't needed (although there were still some people leaving to go on the march after seven, apparently) so we knocked off. I hung around for a bit. Unexpectedly, I was given a food voucher, but as the chosen concession wouldn't let me spend it on doughnuts it remained unused. After eventually going home and having dinner I went to the pub.

On Sunday I tidied up a bit and tried to contact my parents. It didn't work until after six, so I didn't make it to the anti-war march. A shame. Later was Neon, which I notice that someone (who will remain nameless for the moment) has alleged is becoming more like Gigantor. *Cackle*. I enjoyed it. I got accused to being relatively coherent for the amount of alcohol I'd drunk, too, which was nice.

Current music is courtesy of dark_claw. Very silly, far too clever and funny, and well worthwhile. Musically within spitting distance of what Andy Parsnip apparently calls "Future Dogs Die in Kaiser Ferdinand's Hot Hot Car Party", but a lot more likely to make you laugh openly at their lyrics and delivery. Intentionally, I hasten to add. Another of his recommendations, Rilo Kiley, are playing on Friday. Given that there are tempting gigs tomorrow and Thursday too, it could be a good half-week for live music.

Final piece - I got a mail today thanking me for working and saying there was the possibility of getting a couple of free tickets for the big gig tomorrow if I was somewhere particular between eleven and one. Of course, I got this after two, so I laughed long and loud at this (as I don't really fancy it anyway). Of course, they spoiled it a few minuteslater by sending another mail clarifying that they meant eleven and one tomorrow. Ho hum. Why won't people just be properly incompetent when it can be so amusing?

PS - A friend has just put a nice review of Threads up here. It's not often now that I think about how nice it is to feel confident that most people I know will still be alive this time next year. It's a good thing to know.PS -
  • Current Mood: pleased. amused.
  • Current Music: Art Brut - Modern Art
Hmm, I don't know if I'm gonna get my tickets cos they didn't take my email address so I'm going to show up and see if I do, though I'm still not sure if I want to go...
(Anonymous)
Point. Also after the grief the polis gave me this am I decided I don't want to go to anything huge.
Future Dogs Die in Kaiser Ferdinand's Hot Hot Car Party

.. by which you mean what precisely?
God, you had to do some unpleasant research to get that latter set of links.

And I wonder whether The Strokes could be added in to the first lot? Future Dogs Die of a Stroke in Kaiser Ferdinand's Hot Hot Car Party, perhaps.
Kaiser Ferdinand's Hot Hot Interpol Party, if we're going that far, shirley?
Funny, that - I grabbed the Art Brut album off eMusic last week. Fun silly thrashy stuff.
Indeed. Do you remember a song called "Considering a move to Memphis" by the Colorblind James Experience?