Music
I had every intention of at least attempting some kind of post whilst I was in Kent this weekend however I never did find the opportunity to set up the WiFi connection at Nathan and Gemma's house, and only typed a single sentence offline on the iPad when I arrived Friday evening that I soon abandoned.
I was kidnapped by Gem Friday night after she finished a double shift at the airport and spent a long, relaxing weekend in Snodland... you know, that name never gets any less funny. There was film watching, Ikea shopping (with the inevitable/obligatory DIY that follows), a great lunch with Stevey and much catching up sitting out in the sun at a picnic bench on an empty pub lawn. Gem's back at work today so she drove back to stay at the house last night.
Usual road trip rules applied and the driver chose the music, but luckily my having a shed load more music meant Gem allowed me to plug in my own iPod for our musical entertainment. While on the way back I was sure to keep the tunes to the playlist I created for occasions when I had to share a journey with Gemma, ('Gem's Music' pretty much guarantees to keep her entertained and me safe from harm) on the way down to Kent we went with one of the 'Best Of...'s, Gemma chose Country over Musicals.
I have very few clear and distinct memories of my childhood but I was reminded of one- Dad and I alone driving in one of the cars he had when I was a kid, the brownish coloured sports car. Don't ask me what type, I've not a clue, though I can vividly recall the texture of the spoiler on the back- a real thick rubberized one that I would sit on when we'd be out in the driveway in the summer attempting to wash the cars. So I remember me and my Dad in this car, with nothing beyond road and overhead street lights except black. Inside the car feels warm and orange (not quite sure how you feel orange, but it does and I do). I think I was with him as he made some kind of work related visit but all I can remember is the Johnny Cash cassette playing on the stereo and the journey seeming to last for hours and hours. I don't remember talking to him, just watching out the window, knowing he was sitting there next to me and both of us wrapped in this music. I guess in reality it was probably only something like a twenty minute journey all in but my tainted memory is what makes me love driving so much, cutoff from everything but the road and the music, no place to go to or be, it makes for one of my happy places.
When I got homesick travelling New Zealand I sat on the coach with my eyes closed and I put on the digital copy Nathan took of that old Johnny Cash cassette tape. All but 2 or 3 of the songs I'd found on other, more polished recordings, but they just don't compare to that tape. I have all of it committed to memory; the texture of every sound, the hiss and the fades, the rhythm of silence between the songs, the music that sends a thudding beat right through my bones. I know it so well it's like a piece of my soul recognises it.
I've found myself lately being faced with disappointment after disappointment from my Dad. He makes me feel so much regret, shame, hate, loneliness, pain, that I find it hard to picture him in any of the ways I once did. But Friday I was reminded of the man who gave me music in my life. And I miss him.