Novel Extract p.28

It's hard keeping up, I now write a novel and work 8 hours a day in work, I'm getting exhausted and I'm still doing the MA Writing. Not written any poems in a while but still on my novel. I've written over 22,000 words so far. Here is another extract:


I woke up on a hospital bed, my left arm wrapped up in a bandage with dots of red like a polka dot dress. There was a dark red/crimson colour in a triangular pointing-down arrow of the cubital fossa on my arm where the needle had intravenous access and burst through the tissue, and had kept on bleeding down to my hand. It was very warm, I remember. I'd woken up very tired and cold, my lips felt swollen and raw; the abscess under my tooth had taken ground after the lack of blood, and I wondered how much infection I'd succumb to after this escapade. It was dark in the room only because there was a heavy sky about to rain (it was afternoon). Melissa was sitting on a chair. She had a slightly miserable face, which I'd done, this having me feel the muddy effects of guilt. I thought of apologising to her, but thought against it. I didn't say anything, though I did look at her for as long as she looked at me without talking, her eyes on mine very cold like icy water – I began to shiver, breathing heavily through my nose, hoping that this headache was only from the vacuous space left in the superficial vein that was now a long dead worm that stretched up to my armpit where it ached – the skin all bruisy and tender, skin paraffin-white, skin very porous, cold and dry. Melissa looked away, glancing out of the window, now becoming the only light available, shining on my sister's face, a poor pathetic thing less pathetic than me – I looked at her for minutes longer, knowing she knew I was looking at her, could not find words with which to express whatever it was I wanted to express to my little sister, who, by now, had crossed a leg and her arms, sighed once and clenched her jaw. I looked away.

Hop Farm Festival 2nd - 4th July 2010

About 3 weeks ago I went down to Kent to the Hop Farm Music Festival. Me and my friend headed down to London, but we didn't know the way, with being Northerners, and we ended up walking around Waterloo Station with heavy bags in over 20 degree heat and when we finally found the coach station, we'd missed our coach by 20 minutes. It drove us mad because we walked past that road in the first place, and if we'd walked that way to begin with we'd have made it. So we were stranded in London. A massive city, never been there before, and with thoughts of sleeping rough.

Luckily, my fiend had a stroke of genius. He said we could jump a train to Paddock Wood, Kent (£14 each), and then get a bus straight to Hop Farm. And we did! It was a long journey, I tore a muscle in my left shoulder, and we were both exhausted. We were 3 hours late, but that didn't matter. We set up our tents after I'd collapsed into the grass. I couldn't believe we'd walked so far, and for so long, through London, and I was sweating and in pain and we thought we wouldn't even get there.

After we set up our tents, we walked down to the main field - still knackered - and saw Blondie. Had some drinks and then saw Van Morrison in the evening. It was good, considering how tired we were. In the night we sat in the grass at the small acoustic stage on the campsite. I lied down and was talking nonsense as I looked up at the stars, I think I was talking about reincarnation. I suppose it was interesting to hear me talk like that, though as people said sorry as they stepped over me, they must have thought I was on something.

Next day my shoulder was so painful. But we had to do what we came to do, which was get as close to the stage as possible to see Bob Dylan. We got to the main field around 12 or 1, and watched a guy called Johnny Flynn, then The Magic Numbers, and as each act finished, and people scattered to the toilet or bar, we moved forward, and held our place. Pete Docherty did an acoustic set. Laura Marling (who has sang in Noah and the Whale with Johhny Flynn). Mumford & Sons were very good, as was Seasick Steve.

By now were were quite close, and couldn't risk moving from our spot (not that we could without squeezing through). It was kind of claustrophobic, I sat down when I could. The heat was immense. There was warnings about covering up and drinking water. I had my hat and the t-shirt I'd bought was round my neck. Unfortunately, I'd left my bottle of water on the ground and someone had kicked it.

Ray Davies from The Kinks came on and was amazing and everyone wanted him to sing Lola, which he did last. Then we moved forward one last time as he finished and we must have been about 10 feet away from the stage. I was feeling too good and there was no room at all to sit down. It was ridiculous. I stretched my legs (and I think I kicked someone behind me) so the blood would flow properly - I didn't want to faint. Bob Dylan took ages to come on, there was a weird voice over talking instead of music as his roadies set up.

Then he came on. He was amazing. I'd seen him twice before, but this was the closest I'd ever been to him. And, as my friend said, the closest we will ever get to him. I think he is the best musician in the world, and always has been the greatest lyricist. He is a living legend and I couldn't keep my eyes off him - until camera began to block my view. A bunch of girls behind me were short and could't see and tried to look over my shoulder - which I didn't mind- until I felt a hand on my torn, left shoulder.

He began with Rainy Day Women (Everybody Must Get Stoned). It was hard to know what he was singing, because he changes the sound all the time, I still liked it, though. We all sang along to Just Like A Woman. At the end, he finished the set with Like A Rolling Stone, which sent everyone crazy, including myself, screaming the lyrics into the Kentish sky. His encore was Forever Young, which means a lot to me, not that it's my favourite Dylan song, but that it was the first Dylan song I heard, and I love that song. We all sang it the way he did on Planet Waves, and he sang it his way nonetheless.

Rainy Day Women # 12 & 35

Don't Think Twice, It's All Right

Stuck Inside Of Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again

Just Like A Woman

Honest With Me

Simple Twist Of Fate

High Water (for Charlie Patton)

Blind Willie McTell

Highway 61 Revisited

Workingman's Blues #2

Thunder On The Mountain

Ballad Of A Thin Man

Like A Rolling Stone

Forever Young

Some Images From Dec '09

faces #1

Some Photos 25/5/09

The Only Snow in the North

A Fever - And Frank Turner Gig

My temperature is burning the paint off the walls. I'm not too well and this fever is making my heart go fast. Funny that I went into work this morning, felt myself getting dizzy as I walked around, but I laughed it off. Drinking Lemsip or Beechams and it stings my lips, and there's something on the inside of the cup.

Saw Frank Turner on saturday, and it was probably the best gig I've been to (maybe after the Dylan gig back in 2007). Me and my friend got really drunk. We shouted our heads off (which ruined my voice the next day). Frank was talking with the audience and starts talking about a bar he played in in Liverpool, and my friend shouts "Slaters!" (Meaning Slaters' bar) And that was funny. But then my friend looks at me and goes, "No I think he meant Hannah's bar." So it finished and we had some more drinks, and I wanted my coat back because it cost £50 and it was in the cloakroom for £1. We left and went to Korova, which was shit on Saturday and ended up back were we started. It was just about having a laugh with funny conversations with him and when we decided to leave, walking down the road, some racist starts talking to us. We're just going "yeah, is that so, mate?" until he leaves us alone.

We got the bus home. We had this conversation about music and musicians, and the music of 'now.' I mean everyone knows the great musicans and bands of the past, like The Beatles and Bob Dylan, but people now, like Frank Turner, are the musicans we're experiencing now. And when it gets to 30 40 years in the future, we'll look back and say were a part of that.

So I've been hungover and sick since then, but it was worth it. Anyway, I've been worse than this at uni. I wrote this short story the other day, but it doesn't make sense, but I think for me it's just practising my style.

Photos, 8th Jan '09

Photos When I'm Trying

4 Photos: City and Home

Photos on Thurs 4th Dec