(no subject)
The other half of the zygote has been and gone. This visit was much better. I was much better. A couple of snipes at each other, but only to be expected I suppose. Still, it does make me feel like I'm running uphill on scree when it happens. I think what I hoped to avoid, by being more pleasant company this time around, was the overwhelming sense of fucking everything up that I had last time he (and my big sis) left here in 2007. Whaddya know, it's unavoidable.
Driving back along the M4 on Sunday night, stuck in traffic, my stomach lurched with loss and the question about whether I ran away ten years ago and whether I should go back and the feeling of the elastic love that keeps me connected to my remaining family may be starting to stretch a little thin. A few tears.
But we did have a lovely time whilst he was here. A bit touristy (the Eye, the Tate, dinner at the Portrait Restaurant, Hampstead Heath) and some wandering and seeing Dr Ted and eating at every opportunity. I also dragged him to Oxford to see Okkervil River, which was just what we both needed. (Sad little interwebby "review" here)
He left for Madrid on Sunday, for three days of rehearsals with the guys they use in Spain before starting gigs on Friday - they're the main act on the first night of Ebrovision (he is in Bryan Estepa, but is not that B). Then gigs every night for the next two weeks. I'm off to Madrid next week for a couple of days to see him play and suffer the shock of 30+ centigrade.
I'll get to swan around as B's plus one. It's been a very long time since I've sat through a sound check or had my name on the door. B emailed overnight to say everyone is looking forward to meeting me (I've not met the Antipodean band mates let alone the musos they in Spain). I'm looking forward to it in an almost pre-nostalgic sort of way.
We'll say our goodbyes proper very early on the 24th. I'm already dreading it. I really need to get my butt back to the old country for a visit. I'm aiming for May next year, when money and time off work should be more favourable. It will have been just on five years by then. I don't really know how that happened.
Driving back along the M4 on Sunday night, stuck in traffic, my stomach lurched with loss and the question about whether I ran away ten years ago and whether I should go back and the feeling of the elastic love that keeps me connected to my remaining family may be starting to stretch a little thin. A few tears.
But we did have a lovely time whilst he was here. A bit touristy (the Eye, the Tate, dinner at the Portrait Restaurant, Hampstead Heath) and some wandering and seeing Dr Ted and eating at every opportunity. I also dragged him to Oxford to see Okkervil River, which was just what we both needed. (Sad little interwebby "review" here)
He left for Madrid on Sunday, for three days of rehearsals with the guys they use in Spain before starting gigs on Friday - they're the main act on the first night of Ebrovision (he is in Bryan Estepa, but is not that B). Then gigs every night for the next two weeks. I'm off to Madrid next week for a couple of days to see him play and suffer the shock of 30+ centigrade.
I'll get to swan around as B's plus one. It's been a very long time since I've sat through a sound check or had my name on the door. B emailed overnight to say everyone is looking forward to meeting me (I've not met the Antipodean band mates let alone the musos they in Spain). I'm looking forward to it in an almost pre-nostalgic sort of way.
We'll say our goodbyes proper very early on the 24th. I'm already dreading it. I really need to get my butt back to the old country for a visit. I'm aiming for May next year, when money and time off work should be more favourable. It will have been just on five years by then. I don't really know how that happened.