I’m Back!
Lots of things have happened in the last few weeks.
Last weekend, I went to a DIY geeky conference with a name you would recognise. I’ve never been to one hefore, and, afterwards, I felt like a giddy schoolgirl. I did a presentation which seemed to go well, and went to some great presentations on young people and their relation to people who aren’t young, and bread baking (including how to make leaven). I also participated in a discussion on why geeks never talk about sex. Someone pointed that we rarely talk to each other about emotions, perhaps because they are messy and make precision difficult.
We ate doughnuts and pizza and some delicious pies. We drank beer and lemonade. I had some great conversations: on how to do music recommendations, on baile funk (a type of bass-heavy, sex-driven music that is popular in the favela), on how hacking will become one of the great arts.
In the evening, I hung out for a while and then played my first ever game of Mafia. A group that numbers between seven and twenty sits in a circle. A small number of the people are Mafioso and everyone else is an Innocent. Both groups are trying to kill the other group first. Night falls and everyone closes their eyes and makes mooing/zombie/musical sounds. The Mafioso open their eyes and silently come to a consensus on who to kill. Day breaks and the victim leaves the game. The Innocents then have to decide who they think is a Mafioso and lynch them. From there, day turns to night and back to day, and, eventually, only one side is left.
The game is wonderful because people can lie, deal, play a part, form and break alliances, debate. An incredible, suspicious atmosphere can grow amongst the Innocents until they are ready to lynch anyone.
I set off home about three a.m., but then came back to the venue because the journey ahead would have been long and arduous. I played a few more games of Mafia with the people still left up, virtually swaying with tiredness. I finally went to bed and caught a couple of hours’ sleep on a chair.
The next day was more geekery, and I finally went home about four p.m.
A couple of days later, I went to meet two very old friends from school. I hadn’t seen them for about five years, and we clicked back into our modes just as easy as anything. We talked about old times, but also new times. We drank beer standing on the still-sun-warm pavement and laughed so much.
The next day, I went to the London G20 protests. My buddy and I hung out and drank coffee. Then we started to move towards the protest rendezvous. On the way, we saw lots of people in city disguises hanging around in ones and twos. We finally got to the right street and, by then, it was too late. Despite the Police vans that roared in at the last moment, they couldn’t stop people chucking their pop-up tents and taking the street.
After some short, nasty scuffles, the Police retreated to the ends of the street and a party atmosphere swept over everyone. People hung out and talked, ate vegan food, took photographs (so many cameras), got their faces painted, walked around with their children, handed out leaflets, played music, danced. Tourists and shoppers and city workers joined in.
I phoned this girl I used to go out with, Matte, and she set off down to meet me. Without warning, the Police shut both ends of the street: no one in or out. Matte arrived and I caught a glimpse of her through the rows of people and Police. My heart leapt and I fell in love with her again.
Since the Police weren’t letting anyone in, she had to leave. At the other end of the camp, the Police attacked (we were totally oblivious to the advance at our end. People were beaten without reason, people held up their hands in peace and shouted, “This is not a riot”, and, “Shame on you”, but still the Police drove forwards.
Things calmed down again and people set about diverting themselves from boredom: climbing stuff, graffitiing, drinking. Three huge meetings were held to decide what to do. Consensus with twenty people is hard. Consensus with three hundred is just absurd. We were still deciding when the Police opened the quiet end of the camp and let people out conditional on search and photographing and almost everyone left, bar three hundred. We were still deciding when everyone who remained went to reinforce the other end. We were still deciding when the Police drove forward and began hitting people and yanking them out of the crowd.
By one thirty a.m., the Police had driven us hard and fast backwards and out.
I rang Matte and went to meet her at the squat she was staying at. I hadn’t seen her for months and we couldn’t stop touching each other. We sat against a wall, very close, held hands and talked about what had happened during the day. We went upstairs and lay on the floor in our sleeping bags and kissed. Finally, despite the sharp pain in all the contact points between me and the floor, I fell asleep.
I woke with a start and heard someone say, “It’s the cops”, and then a persistent banging. Someone else came in and said, “It’s OK. They tried this last night. There’s only four of them.” So, we all took off our clothes got back into our sleeping bags and went back to sleep.
I awoke at eight a.m., said goodbye to Matte and went to work. I went to work on Friday, too.
Last night, I met Matte again. She hadn’t slept properly for three days and could hardly keep her eyes open. I cooked a stir-fry and made a soya and banana milkshake and we ate and snuggled. We went to bed really early and then I suddenly found she had wrapped herself around me. We kissed desperately and this gladness washed over me. We fucked for ages. I wouldn’t let her come. Finally, I sat up and pulled her onto my lap and held her against me and bounced her up and down on my hand.
We fell back onto the pillow and our breathing slowed and then became regulated.
I woke the next morning and washed my hair and went to the shop. I made toast and jam and tea for Matte and poured her a glass of orange juice. I made her a packed lunch with a houmous, tomato and rocket sandwich, an apple and banana and a gingerbread man. “Is he too sugary for you?” I said. “No”, she said. She set off for another march and I set off for the railway station.
I got on a train to the country. My Dad met me at the other end and we drove to a cottage owned by a friend of his. My Dad, his friend, her two grown-up children – Sam and Gina – and I sat out in the garden and looked over the valley, the sun on my back and everyone else’s faces. We drank tea and I thought about how little Sam and Gina had changed in the seven or eight years since I had last seen them. I also found I was developing a crush on Sam. He is handsome, charming, gentle, funny, insightful, well-read.
We ate a supper of roast beef and potatoes and chocolate truffles. We talked about the merits of the visual arts in relation to the music and the written word. We talked about what pieces of art make us cry. We talked about the awful book that Sam had to read for his book club.
I slept like a log. When I had dressed, I went downstairs and made a cup of tea and drank it as I smoked a cigarette in the garden, the sun on me and the cold breeze chilly. That moment was the perfect antidote to my frenetic week.
I am now on the train back to London. I will meet Matte there. I am so excited: I am crazy about her.