annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Out out Yesterday I went to watch Daughter singing in a choir as part of a 'celebration of recovery' - from addiction, not mental ill health, though there's obviously a big overlap. In the Thursday writing group we were encouraged to buy a notebook (though she had a different, US term for it, that I will remember at some point) and write shit down when we see it. I have a gazillion notebooks but don't carry a bag big enough to hold one of any use so I'm going to jot down what struck me here. First off, I picked Daughter up at 5, as she wanted to be there early for one last rehearsal. The venue is very close to Grandson's flat and he has a parking space but no car so I asked if I could park there and he said of course, no worries. He has to let us in with his remote control of the garage door. We get there, it's pissing down with rain, D goes off, the door opens, I park then call GS and ask if I can come up for the couple of hours before the show. He gets all agitated and in the end it comes down to the girlfriend, who is fine and dandy, but neurotic as fuck, and will go mad if he lets me in when the place is "such a mess" - we've had an issue with this before, but it wasn't pissing down with rain then, nor a time when all the shops and associated coffee shops in the vicinity are also closing. But that was the choice - say no, and send granny off into the rain rather than let her in to see... what? Last time it was a plate on a table and a few clothes on the drier. But off I fucked, got myself a Thai chicken and rice pot in Itsu, then to Caffe Nero, the only place still open at 6, at which point he called and said did I still want to go round because if so they'd be glad to see me. I went and didn't say anything because she's ill, she's neurotic/anxious and there's no point upsetting them - they were upset enough as it was. She also couldn't bear for them to be preparing food and eating in front of someone who wasn't eating so they wouldn't start cooking till I'd left. I can't imagine the mental processes going on in her head because she's been round here loads, she more or less lived with GS and D for ages and we are both so devoid of that kind of sensibility. Both our places are chaotically untidy most of the time, and we're very casual with family members coming in and out, making themselves at home. I don't know how she could bear it. GS was upset. Don't know how it will unfold. I'm only writing it here for the record, for future years, when I read this back. Which I do now, quite often. There's seventeen years of this blog in various places and it's quite astonishing to read back. Diaryland has a great 'random entry' button which I love. Obviously big events happen and cause big changes, but other things slide gently into a new shape. That's why, although I do like having people read, I'll write anyway as now I know it's for me, later. Anyway, the show. Started early, for fuck's sake, ten minutes early. D's choir were opening and closing and I missed their first three songs which pissed me off. They're a great little choir and my darling girl sang her heart out, making me weep, seeing her let go so freely. Then there was a bunch of about eight guitars and some singers, featuring some characters I'm not supposed to know anything about, the key word in all this being Anonymous, but there you go, we chat, me and D, about most things. Lots more acts followed with plenty of crossover - there was only one drummer, the son of a famous musician, who played for all the others and singers cropped up all over the place. They over-ran by two hours, by which time there was hardly any audience left - these clean-livers like to get to bed early. The exodus started at about nine-thirty, so by eleven, when D's choir came back on to close the show there was me and a couple of musicians from previous acts. By then we all knew each other and sang along and danced together, most delightful. There was no alcohol on the premises but the vibe grew and everyone loosened up as if they had been drinking, but much more quickly. People got up and danced, singly or in groups, and sang along, quite loudly. Huge number of smokers though - big crowd outside the door, in the still pissing rain, reek of baccy on everyone's clothes. The most diverse group of people you could hope for, across class, age, sexuality, gender, race - maybe not so much with race, mainly white British, but by no means entirely. Real talent musically - some great voices, great songs. Huge sense of community - everyone seemed to know everyone else - I was an unknown at first but word got out that I was D's mum and several people came and introduced themselves and told me what a great person she is. Some of them told me their stories - I know about C's four children - two living with addiction and two not, what they do for a living and which ones are coming for Christmas. I felt safe. When I arrived on my own, D was on stage and I didn't know anyone but space was made for me, with smiles and welcomes. As no one got pissed, I didn't have the usual anxiety I suffer around drunk men so I was able to let go and join in, without having to keep on the alert. Good stuff. 1:14 a.m. - 02.10.22 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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