Customer Service

This isn't one of those consumer nonsense blogs, this blog is about ME, ME I tells ye. Mwahahahaha. However, I must tell you about a lovely man I spoke to yesterday from Sainsburys with whom I set out to solve a mystery. Favourite moments from the conversation are

Me "I've got a can of Sainsbury's Ravioli, and in the ingredients it says it contains Persil"

Lovely man "That's very funny"

LM "Can I put you on hold for a moment. I'll try and get to the bottom of this. Someone might have done it as a joke, or it might be a misprint."
Me "Ok."
LM(after putting me on hold listening to daft recipe ideas - "why not try throwing on a handful of Sainsbury's porridge oats for a delicious cruncy topping?") "Does it say Parsley anywhere in the ingredients?"
Me "No! You've solved it!"

LM "I can assure you on behalf of Sainsburys that there is no Persil in our Ravioli"

Lovely man is going to keep me updated with the progress of this investigation. This followed yet another terrible telephone conversation to Wanadoo, who we are dumping as our internet service providers as of today. Because I'm writing this from a net cafe, and because I've been coming here for a month. Shitehawks.

Alphabetti blogetti

Thinking of doing a new blog with the above title, but so far I've only done 'F'.

Me, some cows and an angel

Festivities

Maker Festival was a great laugh. Here are a few snaps I managed to grab thanks to Joe's camera (which was kindly offered once mine had succumbed to sand invasion).

This is Greg, who arrived an hour late on stage due to a heavy night in the bunker caffy (the flagged tent shown above - a nightclub made by friends from a war bunker). He allowed to do a couple of songs for the gaggle of kiddies and parents who were by this point gathered for the story-telling. The delayed story-teller introduced him with "Does everyone know what happened during Tommy Coopers last ever gig? Well, here's Greg to re-enact that for us!"

Of course the Northerners were down to complete the cycle of cultural exchange that has been the theme of this summer. Here's Tets on Saturday (the rainy day) at the local gig regatta, and after that a shot of me being a Cornish diva taken on Rumplewaynekin's (for it is as such that Wayne/Fernando is now to be known) phone.



Camp.

I've returned to London and have almost instantly found, enjoyed and done with the things that I missed most. I've seen the lads - neither of them too pleased or at all disappointed to see me - the curry house, my large bed, my guitar. The street feels enclosed, the house feels sturdy and static, which it is in comparison to the boat I stayed in last night or the tents that rustled around me over the weekend. London is a machine to which I have returned one tiny unessential element, slotted back in to place.

I miss the roaming already and the vast expanses of sky and sea and the importance of tide, time and weather which don't matter here. I made a few decisions while I was away - I want more chances to explore the country, in particular I have decided to learn to drive as soon as I leave London - I want to live somewhere where I can go and see the sun rise and set. I want to spend more time outside and learn how to do practical things rather than sitting around analysing - I want to use power tools, pick wild plants for purposes, take deep breaths.

Despite all this it will be good to be back. I always like a change. I look forward to taking the city on again safe in the knowledge that it will not last forever.

I spend so much time thinking about the problems facing friends, mostly boys, the ones who take so much to heart and don't seem to know how to let things go. Of course to me it seems simple and though I can see and understand the pain it is as though they just need to lessen its weight and let it float away. Situations are suspended elements which seem different when you air them, lighten them, shake them, burst them or let them dissolve into calm mundanity. Of course my own problems rarely appear to me in the same shapes, and explaining theirs as such would not help them in the slightest.

London feels heavy tonight. A noisy and threatening drug dealer was shouting abuse into his telephone as we approached the city. I locked the door and checked it again. A police siren is going for it full blast outside. The air is dense with lives all around. I haven't missed this at all.