in which the Rs are rolled and there's a garland in it for shakespeare.
Reconstruction, Reconstruction, Reconstruction!
The three R’s - as Peter Cook would have said it.
A Phase two production whereby the Valley shifts from a budget version of D.H. Lawrence’s The Rainbow (or possibly Dagobah for any Yodalings out there, we don’t go much for yodelling round here though) to a be-splattered building site or quarry... of the sort found in mid 1970s Dr Who.
The good side being the sense of repair, the stubborn bloody mindedness of the luminous jacketed workforce has become a welcome trait rather than... whatever - and the general sense of looking for the next phase, Recovery. More R’s.
Downsides? Well, trench foot and mouth, i mean everyone is coughing and spluttering and ok we’re a phlegmatic kind of people but... my god can we hack up the stuff. Urrrgh.
The building noise, it is constant hammering, drilling and wiring and banging and hammering and drilling and enough already! Meanwhile property and business divisions are widening and fractious as folk either dig in or move out. A third of the local commercial outfits are still closed.
On the other hand this is beginning to lead to creative discussions about environmentally focused project and co-operative work (of which, hopefully, more later) and an awareness that financial and social divides are directly damaging to the community and the local economy, and need to change. Yeah, i’m not holding out for that one either but hey, i can at least show willing.
Meantime, the powers-that-be are actually trying to abduct our local Post Office. Bastards came in the dead of night and we didn’t get the chance to nick it back until morning. It was like a Monty Python cartoon or bloody Puckoon. Now we are stuck in the realm of petitions which, frankly, blows - especially for someone as ego-maniacal as I am, having just discovered that there is a portrait of me etched into the side of the building c/o some creative and very tiny person. Truth!
The Post Office is, therefore, mine - so hands off!
Talking of slightly less tiny people but also highly creative (and, um, me), the Shakespeare legion has been doing their bit. We rehearsed out in the open and under a bridge. I was, as usual, super-ham and cheese to go. When called as a substitute Prince Hal, I dived emotionally down on one knee for a rousing speech - and couldn’t get up again. The entire scene then played out like I was Judy Garland going great guns for Al Jolson in A Star is Born. “Swanee! Swanee!”
go wytch go!
In my case maybe “Sweeney!” is correct.
Sing Melancholy Baby.
I should cocoa.
And now back to our regular broadcast of light music and heavy swearing.
The three R’s - as Peter Cook would have said it.
A Phase two production whereby the Valley shifts from a budget version of D.H. Lawrence’s The Rainbow (or possibly Dagobah for any Yodalings out there, we don’t go much for yodelling round here though) to a be-splattered building site or quarry... of the sort found in mid 1970s Dr Who.
The good side being the sense of repair, the stubborn bloody mindedness of the luminous jacketed workforce has become a welcome trait rather than... whatever - and the general sense of looking for the next phase, Recovery. More R’s.
Downsides? Well, trench foot and mouth, i mean everyone is coughing and spluttering and ok we’re a phlegmatic kind of people but... my god can we hack up the stuff. Urrrgh.
The building noise, it is constant hammering, drilling and wiring and banging and hammering and drilling and enough already! Meanwhile property and business divisions are widening and fractious as folk either dig in or move out. A third of the local commercial outfits are still closed.
On the other hand this is beginning to lead to creative discussions about environmentally focused project and co-operative work (of which, hopefully, more later) and an awareness that financial and social divides are directly damaging to the community and the local economy, and need to change. Yeah, i’m not holding out for that one either but hey, i can at least show willing.
Meantime, the powers-that-be are actually trying to abduct our local Post Office. Bastards came in the dead of night and we didn’t get the chance to nick it back until morning. It was like a Monty Python cartoon or bloody Puckoon. Now we are stuck in the realm of petitions which, frankly, blows - especially for someone as ego-maniacal as I am, having just discovered that there is a portrait of me etched into the side of the building c/o some creative and very tiny person. Truth!
The Post Office is, therefore, mine - so hands off!
Talking of slightly less tiny people but also highly creative (and, um, me), the Shakespeare legion has been doing their bit. We rehearsed out in the open and under a bridge. I was, as usual, super-ham and cheese to go. When called as a substitute Prince Hal, I dived emotionally down on one knee for a rousing speech - and couldn’t get up again. The entire scene then played out like I was Judy Garland going great guns for Al Jolson in A Star is Born. “Swanee! Swanee!”
go wytch go!
In my case maybe “Sweeney!” is correct.
Sing Melancholy Baby.
I should cocoa.
And now back to our regular broadcast of light music and heavy swearing.