I got back from my first ever Greenbelt after I worked out how to get the pop-up-tent to pop down again. Much has been written on this site about the festival so I won’t bore you with my own views. I will say that Jose Gonzalez was extremely good (as was Martyn Joseph). I was nice to meet my fellow wibloggers too.
What I want to tell you is that yesterday I fell into some glue. There I was purchasing some miscellanous items in WH Smiths when I rounded the corner and slipped on a vast lake of glue which was being spread on the floor in order to stick a carpet down. Evidently I ended up caked in aforementioned glue. I didn’t want to catch the bus in case during the period of the journey the glue set and I became adhesed to the bus so I walked 45 mins to get home. By the time I reached home my gluey shoes had picked up all kinds of litter and dead leaves and I resembled a tramp. I got compensation though so I can’t complain.
I just wanted to tell you.
I have a pop up tent which I expected to detonate spectacularly from it’s bag when I pulled the zipper. It didn’t and I was left looking foolish until I realised I had to pull the cord off. Then woosh, instantentious tentage.
I’m holed up in The Tank burning precious money on the interwebs to tell you this. Also I’m too tired to blog properly – I’m gonna try and make it to the wibmeet later
if anyone wants to meet me in the flesh, I left my mobile number on the appropriate facebook thread.
I have more stories to post here too, but my house internet broke so I have to go the library to get any blogging done.
Possibly stories involving velociraptor doctors, or velociraptor rappers (velocirappers?)
In the meantime I’m going to Greenbelt, for the first time. Hurrah for me.
For those wanting to see the contents of my daydreams made manifest
Once there was a smart young whip of a man. An eurdite artistic man who could not be intimidated by even the largest dictionary in the world. He dedicated himself to the arts. We’ll call him Stanley. Yes Stanley is a good name.
Stanley decided to take up pottery. A noble cause thought he. Soon he was pretty good. He crafted vases and cups and plates and pots. All throughout the land Stanley’s fame grew as more people heard of his pottery skills. He became good but he needed new challenges. Soon vases were too easy and plates too boring. "I’ll make a statue" he declared, "but not an ordinary statue, a living statue, a clay man". So Stanley set about making his clay man, whom we shall call Theodore, because Theodore is also a good name. Especially if you are made entirely out of clay.
So Stanley gave Theodore life. He made him a pottery house to live in and they became friends. Every day Theodore would drive to work in a clay car, down the pottery driveway to his work. Theodore had a job in a bank, putting staples into small pieces of paper or sometimes removing staples from small pieces of paper. He enjoyed his job, but it seemed somehow, empty. Every evening Theodore would drive home and Stanley would give him special meals made entirely out of clay, but somehow the meals wouldn’t satisify. Every night Theodore would go to sleep in a special pottery bed. Every night he would cry tears of clay before he went to sleep. Every morning he would wake up sad, because despite all the amazing things Stanley could make out of clay, the one thing he couldn’t make was clay love.
…I had to cause to reflect that many things in life are in fact simpler and easier than we humans often make them.