Yesterday I spent writing new songs with my friend Dave. In keeping with what has become tradition during our writing sessions, I planned to cook us up a feast during the course of the day. An inspection of the cupboard revealed it was bare, and so I planned to nip out to the shops before Dave arrived at mine. It must have taken me longer to get ready than I realised because just as I was walking out the door, the doorbell rang. Dave walked in and I told him I had hoped to spare him from the experience, but we were going to have to go food shopping. Unfortunately for both of us, the place closest to mine to get groceries on foot really bears a close resemblance to what the end of the world will probably look like. We made our way there in the rain, under a grey blanket sky, stopping along the way to drop my recycling in a big dumpster. As we entered the middle of the roundabout, I pointed out to Dave the work of a man who lives nearby, a man who they call a ‘Guerilla Gardener’. This wonderful man illegally plants beautifying flowers, shrubs and herbs on public (state owned) land, at a potential risk to his personal freedom. Although he does have a veritable army of GG’s at his command, you can’t help but wish there were more people like them in the world. We admired their work on the roundabout and walked on. The reality of where we passed through next was not that evolved yet, however. Dave and I reluctantly made our way into this hideously grim shopping center, in the middle of the world’s ugliest roundabout. Grumbling as we went around the depressing Tesco Metro, we somehow managed to find some food that would become edible with the right spices. As we were paying dearly for what we had chosen, I asked the check out lady how she was. The lady replied that the weather could not be worse. I told her not to worry, it will all be over soon. I was mostly referring to the seemingly interminable winter. She seemed to take it as morbid comment on the brevity of life. My words spoke to her. The world is burning and life is hard but our lives are but a grain of sand in the grand scheme, and it will all be over in the blink of an eye. Enjoy it while it lasts and plant some flowers where you have walked.
Verse 1 of new song (some of the fruits of yesterday’s labour):
So, there you sit, holding your head
As though your time has come, but it hasn’t come yet
Look up to the sky, try not to forget
Until that sky it falls, you might as well live
P.S. Yesterday’s menu was sticky, spicy Chinese style gammon with greens and rice.