Having enjoyed a birthday last week, here’s a Russian-doll footnote.
I remember building a den around the dusty layers of the cricket club grounds in my home-village with a friend, in the trees. Whilst we were enjoying the poached eggs and satin branches we’d created, I spotted a disturbance over the loose weaves of our broad-leaf rugs. I scuttled down the wooden staircase to search and illuminate. Standing still in the middle of my bourgeois-hall, my tort neck wrung a one-hundred and ten degree angle to the ground. A brightly coloured snake slithered between my ankles. I was petrified into a stand-still and took a deep breath. I yelled, screamed and ultimately broke down the gates of the palace and ran out into the dull, morbid and wet village.
I remember building a den around the dusty layers of the cricket club grounds in my home-village with a friend, in the trees. Whilst we were enjoying the poached eggs and satin branches we’d created, I spotted a disturbance over the loose weaves of our broad-leaf rugs. I scuttled down the wooden staircase to search and illuminate. Standing still in the middle of my bourgeois-hall, my tort neck wrung a one-hundred and ten degree angle to the ground. A brightly coloured snake slithered between my ankles. I was petrified into a stand-still and took a deep breath. I yelled, screamed and ultimately broke down the gates of the palace and ran out into the dull, morbid and wet village.
The next few nights I had vivid dreams of this gargantuan serpent chasing me and my friend. Past the old school house, out of the playing fields and through the ever-encroaching village high street.
So the dream was really clear in my mind; it stuck with me through childhood and adolescence. Enough so that, the other night, and I promise this, I had that same dream and it was as terrifying as ever. It’s odd (with dreams) when you know there’s something going on that’s powerful but you don’t know exactly why so (I have never had a fear for snakes, I think dreams are metaphors). I‘m presupposing that it’s something to do with the fact I’ve been getting ill too often, and I’m at an age where I want to philosophise about it.
So, it’s been the birthday months for My Grey Horse (other than Fat ‘Tom Mott’ Marcus), we’ve been coming of age; appreciating what we have. We have been doing some terrific shows and have been chatting to all sorts of industry people. Joe took his first steps, John has had his first toupee fitted and Pete has started spending his afternoons drinking ale in central Birmingham reading the Davely Mirrorband.
So, it’s been the birthday months for My Grey Horse (other than Fat ‘Tom Mott’ Marcus), we’ve been coming of age; appreciating what we have. We have been doing some terrific shows and have been chatting to all sorts of industry people. Joe took his first steps, John has had his first toupee fitted and Pete has started spending his afternoons drinking ale in central Birmingham reading the Davely Mirrorband.
It’s been a while but the blog is back, and here’s a free track thing you can sign up to as a token of appreciation, but we’ll be playing the ‘Native Tongue’ venue club night in Epsom this Friday.
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| If we play Epsom again, it will be here. |
(for the free track 'Clay Feet' follow)
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